


Hero

by LyingReflection



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Deck appreciating that more or less, Luke playing the hero for his Princess, M/M, Other characters mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28648965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyingReflection/pseuds/LyingReflection
Summary: In stories, saving the princess is what the hero does. And in some, it's the princess who gets to save the hero in return.Aka five times Luke Hobbs rescued his Princess and one time said Princess rescued him in return.
Relationships: Letty Ortiz/Dominic Toretto (mentioned), Luke Hobbs/Deckard Shaw
Comments: 30
Kudos: 108





	1. Catch me (please)

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! I just finished this today and while I don’t normally post anything – be it a story or school essay – without letting it sit a few days and then go over it again, I just couldn’t wait anymore with letting you to read this. I had planned to write most of the chapters before publishing anything, because I personally like to know that the text is going to actually finish before starting to read, but right now I have one done, another started, two planned and one that I don’t know how it’s going to go… But anyway, I figured that some feedback from you will inspire me to write more and eventually finish this and since my classes only start on the 18th I’ll still have time to work on this before that.
> 
> This is a 5+1 story, because I always wanted to write one. Still I had some ideas that couldn’t fit into this one, so I might possibly in the future do something with those as well…
> 
> On further note, thank you all who commented and left kudos on Princess, this was inspired by all the feedback I got from you! I hope you’ll enjoy Hero as well, even when I personally think Princess is the best story I have written so far. Also, English is not my first language so apologies in advance for all the mistakes there might be.

“Stupid people never know when to just quit,” Deck grumbles to himself. He’s not in particularly happy mood and having to run around this place after a guy he’d rather just shoot isn’t making him any happier. “Hey, I said stop it, fucktard!”

The man he’s pursuing turns to take a quick look over his shoulder and continues running. Deck curses and continues to run after him. Because what other choice he has? The bastard grabbed the tablet they need in order to get the information they’re here for in the first place and trying to stop him when they’re on a narrow grated metal walkway, high enough from the floor that a fall could kill a man, is not a good place to do anything that might end up with accidentally dropping a delicate piece of technology. They had to replace Sam’s phone just last week when it slid down from the kitchen counter. And yes, they have stone floor in the kitchen and high counters – because of course she-Hulk has to have ones made to fit _him_ , no matter that it’s Deckard who usually does the cooking now – but this place also has quite unforgiving floors and even if they weren’t so, from this high, the tablet wouldn’t be more than tiny little jigsaw pieces if it was to fall.

So, no shooting the guy, no dropping the guy, no doing anything that will compromise the tablet and thus the information. And of course, Deckard’s the only one who’s actually still in hot pursuit, Tej, who was partnered with him, fell behind a good while back and the rest of their team is spread all around the factory they’re currently in. So, unless they run into someone else by sheer luck, he’s on his own.

They are fast approaching the end of their current level and the idiot has a decision to make, up or down? Well, theoretically anyway, the stairs in here are more like ladders and Deck has gained quite well on the last two, this time, he’s quite confident that he will catch the man. And it looks like his target knows it too.

He keeps glancing behind over his shoulder, and Deckard feels well justified in giving him a grin that’s more shark than human. Oh yes, he’s got him now.

A step away from the ladder/stairs and the man he’s pursuing surprises Deck completely by pivoting around, letting out a wild scream and charging right at Deckard. The only reaction Deck – already having readied himself for the last push – can do, is to try and brace himself. The guy is not much bigger than Deckard is, height or mass wise, but he’s got that wide-eyed, desperate look in his eyes that tells Deck not to underestimate his strength right now. Their collision forces Deckard two steps backwards, before he manages to sidestep, which makes the attacker charge past, and then it’s Deck who pivots and promptly delivers a kick towards his legs, in hopes that the move will make his opponent lose his balance.

Unfortunately the guy seems to have some knowledge of hand to hand or otherwise just good reflexes, because he manages to knock the kick to a side and then they are both delivering punches, kicks and pushes while avoiding the tablet grasped in the man’s right hand, until suddenly the guy sends Deck against the safety rail of the walkway and it just gives in behind him. A screech of metal and Deck feels himself falling backwards instead of catching himself against the railing as they have both been doing, since the walkway is actually a little too narrow place for fighting. The guy’s eyes are just as round as Deck’s are when they meet in the middle of his toppling over, neither having expected this outcome.

Instincts kick in and Deck grasp around for something, anything to hold on to. The bend metal railing passes by, but his hand only brushes it without finding anything to grasp. Deck is pretty sure he’s gone, before he sees it. The walkway that runs diagonally with this one, just a heart dropping four meters lower. _Please, please, please. No, no, no- gotcha._ He’s left hanging onto the safety rail of the lower walkway. Feet in the air and still a way too far from the ground for his liking, when he takes a careful look down. There’s one more walkway below him – the same position than the one above him – and then the floor below that. Deck guesses he’s about at least three stories high. Okay, so not so high now, that he probably wouldn’t survive the drop with a bit of luck and definitely some broken bones, but for some reason Deck doesn’t really fancy trying that.

So, what are his opinions? The guy he was chasing has taken a quick look down to see what happened but then turned and run. Bastard. Can he try to climb up? Deck’s hanging onehanded onto the lover of the two vertical metal beams of the rail. The upper one is about thirty centimetres above. Too high that he wants to risk his somewhat precarious hold by trying to swing his free hand up to it. If he could get his legs braced against something, that could work and then he only would need to swing the rest of his body over the rail and that’s it. Sadly, there’s really nothing else than the walkway itself to brace his legs to, and that’s too high in this position, even when the yoga Deck regularly participates in mean his flexible enough to get his legs up there. But not without pushing himself off the railing that’s currently the only thing keeping him from falling. Bugger.

What now? Take the risk and just drop down? If he manages to control his fall then maybe…

“Deck?”

 _Oh thank God._ “Luke!”

“Where are yo- Deck?!”

“Hi,” he grimaces, turning his head as much as he can, to see Luke, whose standing up on the walkway where Deck started this sudden journey towards the floor of the factory.

“How did _that_ happen?” the big man asks, even when his eyes are already calculating the possibilities and judging from the way he stares the hole in the railing of his walkway and then Deck’s position of hanging onehandedly on the railing of the one below it, he already has come to an at least rather close answer to his own question.

“How about you figure a way to get me down here first, and I’ll tell you the story afterwards?” Deck offers, a bit desperate because his grip isn’t the most secure on the smooth, painted metal beam in the first place and it’s quickly getting even less so, as his hand is sweating from nerves and strain.

“Okay, just hang on Princess.”

“ _Really_ Twinkle-toes? That’s what you’re gonna go with?!” he snarls, partly because he knows it reassures Luke that he’s actually mostly okay, despite the situation, and partly just because, _seriously_? _Hang on_. What the hell else he’s going to do? Go for a walk?

“Sorry, sorry. Just, let me think,” Luke placates. Deck can’t see him fully from where he's hanging, but what he can see from here and saw when running earlier, is that Luke has the opinion to go up, or down all the way to the ground on the walkways that run parallel to his own on four levels, but in order to get to the one Deck is hanging onto, or any of the ones that run parallel to it, he has to do a bit more walking around. And really, what kind of idiot designed the place so that you can only access the walkways that go the same direction from those walkways but have to walk around to get to the ones that go another direction?

“Okay, got it. Just hold on a bit longer, darling, I need to run down first.”

“Down? The hell you need to go down for?” he yells but only gets the _bang, bang, bang_ of the metal grating under heavy feet as his answer. “Hey, Captain America?!”

No answer. Luke’s moving on the stairs, behind Deckard’s back, so he can’t see where the man is aiming for, but the noise quickly passes the level Deck is currently hanging about and seems to get lower and then Luke’s voice is back, this time coming from different direction. He’s no longer by the wall, on the stairs, it’s more like he’s situated…

Deck peeks down and yep, his partner is standing down on the ground, pretty much right under where Deck’s currently hanging onto the railing. With his hands reached out. Please don’t mean… “What are you planning to do now? Catching me when I fall?!”

The look on Luke’s face isn’t very reassuring, and then he nods firmly. “Exactly that, Princess. You jump, I catch you.” _Great_.

“Are you crazy?!” Maybe Luke hit his head somewhere when they were separated and is suffering some kind of concussion or something? But of course not, because this is very much something his partner would actually think as a good idea. Much like a jump out of fourth story window.

“It’s the easiest way!”

“Yeah, for both of us to snap our necks!”

“Are you afraid I won’t catch you Princess?”

Deck scoffs. Of course he’s not. There’s no way Luke won’t do exactly what he promised, but as strong as Luke is – and he’s capable of picking Deckard up, even carrying him around a bit if needed – it’s different when all that mass hits you from up above. With speed. They’re both going to end up hurt. And what will they tell Sam then?

“No, just don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Come on, Deck. It’ll be fine, have some faith.”

“Oh, I don’t think faith has anything to do- _Aaah_!” It doesn’t escape Deckard’s notice how ironical that moment is for his grip to finally slip and then he’s once again sailing through the air. He braces for the impact, braces for the hurt and then, quicker than he anticipated, he hits something. Or more like someone snatches him straight from the air. One hand catches Deck around his upper body, one around his thighs, rather that under his knees, but close enough that the positioning is clear.

The weight of his body knocks Luke off his own feet, but even as they fall, Luke keeps holding on and then they finally find the ground. Luke, abnormally strongly build as he is, manages to keep himself half up, so that he only drops down to his arse and not flat onto his back. Deck himself is held tightly to his chest, half sitting, half lying in his lap when they finally stop their descent and blinking a couples of times in disbelief that he’s actually on the ground and nothing hurts very badly, because Luke did catch him. Just like he promised he would.

“Okay, Princess?”

He lifts his head from where it ended up resting against Luke’s shoulder, to meet the brown eyes of the bigger man. He grimaces when he feels the angry drop of his right shoulder. Not broken or even dislocated, thankfully, just exceptionally sore. But that’s what you get from suddenly forcing one part of your body to take all your bodyweight. Especially by dropping down like he did only to end up hanging from a metal beam by his right arm.

“Yeah, I think so. Probably going to need some painkillers though. And maybe a message for my shoulder.”

“I think both of those can be arranged,” Luke promises, before he’s bending down to press a kiss against Deckard’s lips. “Scared me there for a moment, Princess.”

It’s not the right place or time, but Deck answers the kiss all the same, greedily, causing what was probably meant to be a soft reassurance to deepen to something far dirtier. The adrenaline from the chase and his sudden fall and miraculous save is still coursing through Deckard’s body and now that the immediate danger seems to be over, it has decided another outlet for the energy coiled into his muscles.

One of Luke’s big arms supports his back nicely, which is welcomed gesture since Deck’s back and arm muscles seems to tremble minutely from the strain they were just subjected to. Just as welcomed is the hand that is attached to the same arm and is currently resting low on his hip and fast creeping lower towards his arse. Another hand cups his face, tilting it up to an angle that gives Luke the best opening for devouring his mouth.

“Well, now I’m rather glad that I told you to go be the hero and save your boy while I run after our runner, if this is the kind of thank you I would have gotten as well.” The sudden, amused voice of one Dominic Toretto brakes them apart. Deck turns to take a look and promptly feels slight colour of embarrassment rising to his face as he sees the other man standing next to them, hands crossed over his chest and a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Did you catch him?” Luke asks him, all business like, even as he sits flat on his arse, hands around Deckard who’s sprawled onto his lap and both their lips spit slick and puffy.

“Letty did,” Dominic answers and holds out a hand that Deck takes, allowing himself to be helped to his feet, mostly because Toretto isn’t the kind of man that offers help because he thinks someone’s not capable to do without it, but just because he _can_. Dominic is giver, always ready to offer his help for others and he never holds the help once given, over them, but willing to receive help in return, if offered. Deckard’s not by nature so willing to either give, but especially receive, help, but he still appreciates those qualities in Toretto.

Luke gets up himself once Deck’s weight is removed from him and then places his arm around Deck’s shoulders as soon as he’s standing, even when that’s not quite necessary. There’s nothing wrong with his legs, after all. Nothing much wrong period, save some sore muscles and still a bit fast beating heart, but that last one might just as well be the kiss than the fall.

“Letty, huh?” Deck grins, allowing the arm to remain for now. He’s not usually one for public displays of affection, but Dominic won’t neither mind nor tease them about it. However, pretty much anyone else in their team is going to show up, and the arm better be gone willingly, or he will be forced to help it move.

“Letty,” Dominic confirms with a light smirk and Deck chuckles darkly. If he himself sometimes carries the remainders of days spent as killer for hire and Luke has the habit of putting people and things through walls, and Dominic is dangerous but often held back and some of their team is not all that dangerous unless placed behind a wheel or computer, Letty is ruthless both behind the wheel and out in the field when she chooses to. And she actually likes Deck nowadays as he’s the one who saved her boy, as she likes to refer to the thing that managed to confirm most of the Team Toretto that’s he’s an okay guy.

“Can we still interrogate him?” Luke asks bit warily. Dominic shrugs.

“Probably. He was still breathing when I left to check if you needed help.”

“That’s …something,” Luke sighs. Toretto looks completely unapologetic, and mostly just proud of the firecracker that’s his wife.

“Well, we should probably go check if _he_ needs any help by now…” Deck offers.

“Yeah, we should," Luke agrees. "In a minute, just need to make sure you’re all okay first.” Deck rolls his eyes and sighs, knowing he won’t get any help from Dominic with this, the man is probably the worst mother hen of their team as it is, and Luke is the close second.

“I’m _fine_ , Twinkle-toes.”

“Even so, your highness. I just want to make sure, please?”

Well, it’s not like he can say no now, not when his partner is giving him absolutely the most ridiculous attempt of puppy dog eyes on any grown man. Seriously, he grew up with Hattie and Owen, puppy dog eyes don’t work on him even when properly displayed and a man of Luke’s size just can’t pull them off. Still, it’s quite endearing to witness it whenever he tries.

“ _Fine_ , have it your way then, you menace.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

Toretto snorts, not even trying to hide his amusement and Deck _glares_ at him, just daring the other man to say anything about the nickname, but the racer just gives him a serene smile in return.

“Is that a way to treat your rescuer?” Dominic smirks.

“Fuck. You.” Deck mutters politely, but by the way Luke is grinning, his big partner is completely eating up the idea of himself as the dashing hero, ready to save the day and anyone who’s in the need to be saved – whether or not they actually needed the saving in the first place.

Well, whatever, let him be the hero. But if Letty left the man alive, Deck is definitely up to roughing him a bit more, partly because of the fall he caused, asshole, and partly to remind everyone else that he’s not some wilting flower here, despite needing a bit heroic help from his partner.


	2. Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to post this on Saturday, but it was written already so then I thought that why not just post it today. This is actually the first chapter I wrote for this fic, and the one that was supposed to also start the whole thing, but then I wrote Catch me (please) and that felt like a better starting point, so now this is second. Not that is much matters in which order these go, since every chapter is a separate story that could pretty much work on their own if needed.
> 
> Hopefully you'll enjoy this one as well and again, English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes. Feedback is much welcomed and will inspire me to write more. :)

This time, it’s just the two of them on a mission – not that Deck is complaining. It’s a nice change to their usual, to just work with someone whose skills he can be absolutely sure of. And who at least tries to follow the plan. Not that the first of those points much matters during this particular mission, but the sentiment remains. And if nothing else, at least today he doesn’t have to listen Pearce’s gob go on and on and on about things Deck has zero interest in. So that’s a definite plus.

It’s just him and Luke and a bunch of wannabe criminals with guns bigger than their brains and with about as much knowledge of how to use them as common toddlers. Nice, easy job for once. If they weren’t in Canada, they’d be home in time to pick up Sam from school. Oh well, if Mr. Nobody doesn’t need them for anything further than this, they might make it home before bedtime. And that’s a nice thought. It gives Deckard something to look forward to, which he still finds himself being thankful of. He’s not on a run anymore, he’s got his family and Luke and Sam but still, the knowledge that he has both a home to return at the end of the day, and someone in there waiting for him, fills him with joy every time he thinks about it.

Deck’s inner toughs are interrupted by a squeaky noise, like that of a sneaker against linoleum floor, coming from up ahead. Well, it probably is a sneaker against linoleum, really, so Deckard stops right where the corner is, so he’s hidden from whoever is approaching and then he waits. The pimple faced, more-boy-than-a-man in white sports sneakers and a Beretta ARX160 held both loosely and very incorrectly in his hands, only manages to blink stupidly before he’s already crumpling down, unconscious.

“Really shouldn’t play with adult toys if you don’t know how to use them…” Deck mutters, eyeing the weapon as he slips the zip ties to the idiot’s wrists and ankles, effectively tying him up, even as it’s rather unlikely that he will even wake up before they are done here and long gone. Deckard slaps a small, stick-on tracking device to the Beretta and then leaves it where it is, while he continues forward.

He works his way through three more hallways, subduing five additional idiots on his way. None of them put up more than a token of a fight, and Deck’s not even slightly sweaty when he reaches the stairwell that will take him to the next floor up.

He’s also really starting to question Mr. Nobody’s intel about these morons planning to pull a terrorist attack across the border. Because, really, even if they have actually managed to collect enough firepower into this place to pull off their plan, Deck’s rather sure they won’t have enough brain power to execute it. Most likely they will only end up blowing themselves up before they can become a real threat to anyone else. Expect maybe Deck’s own sanity.

He was rather looking forward to this mission, but right now he’s just bored. While Deckard loves the ordinary life where the biggest decisions he has to make usually are what to cook for dinner, who picks or drops off Sam and figure out if it worth the hassle to go to the shops himself or send Luke and take the chance that he ends up missing half the things on the list but acquiring some random things he actually didn’t want to have, he likes missions too.

His normal life may seem boring to some, but after over eight years on the run and then some time spent in prison – thanks for that, Twinkle-toes – Deck is more than happy with it, happy to have set times for breakfast on schooldays and house work during the day and then dinner and homework and weekends spend lazing around the house or out and about with Sam and Luke. He’s not just a housewife – and if Owen ever again calls him that, he will beat him up, no matter what Mum will say about the matter. Deck does occasional consulting work for both MI6 and DSS, and much more frequently for Mr. Nobody, while comfy at home. But Deck isn’t also one to say no when they are summoned to save the world or do something else their elusive employer wants them to do.

Because as much as Deck is perfectly happy with his ordinary life, he also likes this less than ordinary variety of it, and he was ready for adrenaline and fighting and just generally things that get his blood pumping, but now this mission is turning out to be just one big disappointment. No real enemy to fight, not much skills required, not much brain work going anywhere in his immediately vicinity to speak of…

Honestly, it would have been so much more productive use of his time to stay at home and start the work on that laundry pile that has – once again – grown to a rather alarming height. Seriously, how can one kid and a man who wears too tight t-shirts and cargo pants generate that much laundry? Because somehow most of it always belongs to the two of them.

Another linoleum covered hallway, empty office spaces and couple more idiots. No sight of the weapon cache they were sent to locate.

He passes another doorway and it’s really a statement of how boring this mission has been, that Deckard’s actually surprised when he feels someone right behind him. He didn’t pay enough attention, not believing these morons good enough to sneak up to him. Stupid rookie mistake.

A hand clamps over his mouth and instincts take over conscious thought. Deck stabs his attacker sharply to the general area of their kidney with his elbow, while trying to twist his body out of the hold. There’s a gasp, and then low, if little breathy, growl.

“The fuck, Princess?”

Deck stops his movement and rolls his eyes, even as he recognises the oversized palm covering half of his face and then the wide chest covered in tact vest pressing against his back.

“The hell, Twinkle-toes?” he hisses back as soon as Luke moves his hand.

“I found their arsenal.”

“Good for you, but unless you’re looking to part with few limbs or at least acquire some broken bones, _do_ _not_ sneak up behind me!”

“I thought that you liked me behind you,” Luke leers.

Deck glares at him.

“Fine fine, just didn’t want to shout at you, and risk getting some unwanted attention to our direction…”

“I’m pretty sure these morons are stupid enough that we don’t have to worry about such things,” Deck assures him. “Now, where are the weapons?”

Luke – who was working from top to bottom of the building while Deck was going from ground up – takes him to a next floor up and gestures for Deck to open a door. He does so and then stops short.

“They actually rammed all their stolen weaponry into a broom cupboard? And didn’t even bother to remove the mops and buckets first?!” _The idiocy of some people…_

“Not everyone can be a criminal mastermind,” Luke grins.

“I’m pretty sure even people with common sense wouldn’t pile that much stolen stuff into a broom cupboard that doesn’t have a lock in the door and when said door seems to stay shut mostly thanks to a handmade-out-of-metal-wire latch…”

Luke laughs, starts to say something before a noise, much like fire alarm being pulled, fills the air.

“Reckon they finally noticed us infiltering their base of operation?” Deck asks dryly.

“Probably,” Luke shrugs and glances at his watch. “And look, it only took them about fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, real masterminds,” Deck shakes his head. The only reason it took him and Luke this long to go through the place is because it’s huge complex of old offices, to which they had no blueprints for, nor any idea where the bad guys actually have set their camp. And because they weren’t exactly checking broom cupboards for the stolen weaponry. Well, Deck wasn’t at least. Maybe he should have, but really, a broom cupboard?

“You took the pictures?” he checks, mostly out of habit than need, because Luke really is a professional and not just glorified street racer.

“Yeah, and planted the trackers as well,” Luke confirms.

“Good, let’s get the hell out of here then.”

“After you, Princess.”

“Such a gentleman,” Deck rolls his eyes, but starts to lead the way.

They turn another corner – it seems that this place is filled with them – and nearly bump into a pair of the bad guys, these ones actually holding their weapons like they plan to use them. Deck steps forward, takes a hold of the barrel of the one closer to him and twist, managing to pull the weapon out of the hands of the idiot and then promptly knocks him down with the butt of it. In the corner of his eye, he sees quick movement and a flash of steel but by the time he swing towards the danger, the knife wielding man – and really, he had a gun in his hand, why the Hell he went for a knife? – is meeting the wall with enough force to make a dent the shape of his head into the drywall.

“Okay there, Princess?”

“My dashing hero,” Deck snarks, turning towards him. “Whatever would have I done if you haven’t been here with those strong muscles of yours to take care of a twenty something, 5’11 boy who neither knows to fight with weapons or without them…”

“Just doing my heroic duty,” Luke grins. “Can’t have you over tasking that delicate body of yours.”

“I’ll show you delicate,” Deck threatens. Luke just laughs, a wide grin across his face and Deck can’t help but grin as well. He’s pissed because of the disappointing mission, but somehow Luke can still make him feel like he’s not completely wasting his day with this.

“That a promise, Princess?” Luke’s voice drops to a low growl and there’s a heat in those brown eyes as they take him from head to toe.

Deck feels his own grin chance shape from amused to more wicked. Okay, so maybe instead of hurrying to home, they should just stay the night here in Canada. It’s not too often that they get a completely uninterrupted night for themselves, outside of occasional sleepovers. And those happen rather seldomly outside of school holidays.

“Hmm, could be. If you’re still up to it big guy, and not too overtasked yourself from all that protectively hero duty of yours…” The look Deck gives his partner with the words is full of promise for a good time if Luke plays his card right, right now.

“Oh darling, I’m always up to-”

Deckard stands facing Luke and can see how his eyes grow wide as he catches a sight of something behind his back. Deck tries to turn to see what the big guy is looking at over his head, but before he has a chance, Luke is moving. One hand grabs Deck around the waist, another anchors itself to the back of his head as he’s simultaneously pulled to Luke’s chest and spun around as Luke pivots them so that it’s his back facing whatever they are about to face, with Deck shielded behind his bigger body.

Luke takes a long stride, towards the corner that they are still right next to, bringing Deck with him. They only just make it before there’s a light clank as something hits the floor and then everything explodes.

 _Hand grenade_ , Deck’s brains supplies as they are thrown off their feet. They land mostly behind the corner, Luke’s hand still cupping his head, saving Deck from a possible concussion before all the air is knocked out of his lungs, as Luke lands heavily on top of him. There are situations where that big body on top of him is much welcomed, but this is not one of them. And while Deck’s not some delicate flower, he is realist enough to admit that he can’t handle all of Luke’s mass when it lies like this on him, with no support from the Samoan himself.

“Luke, come on Twinkle-toes, you gotta move,” Deck gasps, trying to move his head from where its pressed against Luke’s vest, in order to draw in some air. It’s quickly getting hard to breath. “Luke!”

No answer. Suddenly, Deck feels bit panicky. Those idiots blew up the hallway and alongside it their unconscious friends and most probably themselves as well, so they aren’t going to pose an immediate threat but there are probably still some more of them left that can become a problem, plus while they are now mostly hidden from the fires caused by the explosion, the smoke is starting to fill the space pretty fast.

And Luke is probably unconscious. Deck refuses to believe any other possibility.

He tries shifting the body on top of him body, finds it impossible, stops to cough as his lungs – unable to fully expand under the heavy weight – protest and then tries to pull at least his hands free. Deck finally gets his left hand free from elbow down and uses it to feel around Luke’s shoulder, to shake him little.

“Luke, come on Hulk, I need you to move. Luke!”

There’s a groan, and then the weight sifts a little. Luke shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it and Deckard changes is original thought of unconsciousness to ringing ears and some discoordination after the explosion.

“Luke,” Deck gasps, desperately. “Luke you really gotta move now. I can’t breathe.”

Another groan, this time little louder and then the weight above him is gone and Luke drops onto his side, so he’s mostly next to Deckard instead of on top of him. That Deck can handle.

Deck coughs, gasps and finally feels his lungs fully expanding.

“Deck…?” Luke sound a little out of it.

“I’m okay, just found it bit hard to breath underneath that mass of yours, Mr Muscle,” he answers and manoeuvres himself rest of the way from underneath Luke’s arm and to a kneeling position so he can take a look at Luke. “Let me see you.”

Luke groans but sits up himself and lets Deck take a look without protest. There are some burns on his clothes and some superficial wounds, which are more like scratches, at the back of his head, but otherwise he seems fine. Deck wows to himself slap the most sparkliest of those princess plasters Luke get for him as a joke, on them when they get out of here.

“What’s the verdict, nurse Shaw, will I live?” Luke asks cheekily, all the traces of dizziness gone. Well, with head as hard as his, that’s not really surprising.

“Doctor Shaw, thank you,” Deck sniffs, fingers still running gently over Luke’s scalp.

“Nah, you’d be a nurse. I could definitely see you in that outfit,” the other man grins.

“You do realize that nurses these days don’t walk around in dresses and silly headdresses?” Deck asks as he gets up and reaches a hand out to help Luke. Luke takes his hand but does most of the job himself, which is probably wisest, because he’d be more likely to pull Deck down than Deck is to pull his up without some serious trying on his part.

“Hmm, I could probably find something if I tried… You’d look good on stockings and heels. Just imagine, I could actually kiss you without getting a kink to my neck.”

Deckard glares at him as they step around the corners to check the amount of damage the hand grenade caused. “Yeah, and that whole thing doesn’t just sound like a development of another kind of kink entirely…”

Seeing what’s left off the hallway and the people who occupied it before the explosion, they both fall silent. For all that Deck was joking about Luke being the dashing hero, if Luke hadn’t jumped to shield him and gotten them around that corner…

Deck touches Luke’s wrist, catching the other’s attention. “I think that… maybe you did save me, this time,” he admits softly. Luke takes a hold of Deckard’s hand, easily enclosing it into his bigger one and squeezes gently.

“Like I said, just doing my job with protecting you, Princess.” His words are joking, but the look in his eyes is serious. Deck still remembers a tad too vividly how the agent once jumped out a fourth story window in order to protect his friend, who had the unfortunate luck in walking straight in the middle of his and Luke’s first official meeting. Somehow Deck doesn’t doubt that Luke wouldn’t do the same – and more – for him, risking his own life in order to protect Deckard’s at any risk.

Deck likes his men to be bigger than himself, but Luke’s definitely the tallest one he’s ever been seriously with and it’s all the clearer when they’re standing side by side like this. Because Deck has to really stretch himself up to his tiptoes if he wishes to kiss his oversized partner. So yeah, the joke about heels has some truth in it. He steadies himself with one arm on Luke’s bicep and brushes a quick kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth.

“My hero,” he mumbles, and then, because it doesn’t do to be _too_ sappy, points a finger at the Samoan. “And you even dare to breath about what I just said to anyone and I’ll murder you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess,” Luke promises with a glint in his eyes and all the sincerity of Sam swearing up and down that she didn’t leave her muddy football shoes in the middle of the entrance hall for Deck to trip over when he came in with hands full of grocery bags. _They must have moved by themselves, Deck!_

There’s a shout and then the sound of running feet. Back to work it seems. Home for bedtime is probably out of the question also, since no doubt will Mr. Nobody insist that they take care of this whole business right here and now. Instead of having his underlings to keep an eye on the weapons to see where they move, what might be the target and if there actually are any real masterminds behind this plan.

And if this drags up much longer, it’s bye-bye to their evening plans as well, and instead they can spend the evening sitting in for a debriefing and writing reports. Suddenly, Deck feels like shooting first, asking questions later – assuming there is anyone left to be asked – kind of mood.

“Ready, Princess?”

“I’m always ready. It’s you who should worry about keeping up with me, Twinkle-toes.”

They share a grin and ready their weapons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually had a different ending at first, but I felt that it was a bit dramatic and I do want to keep this somewhat light, so it got changed. But there's still always the possibility that I'll write another fic/longer version of this chapter where I use that ending...


	3. Not.a.damsel.in.distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason writing this was a real struggle, I’m not sure if I’m still happy with it, but hopefully it will do. I’m also going to point out that I really don’t how most of the things described in this work in real life, as I don’t know much about computers or guns or cars etc. – basically anything that would be useful when writing Shobbs fic, so I usually end up googling things if I feel the need to learn about them… That means that everything like that is either from Google, or from my head because I didn’t have time/energy to google it and if you find mistakes, they are most definitely mine.
> 
> I tried to check Luke’s sister’s name but seems like maybe it never actually was revealed in the movies. I went with Lisa anyway, because someone else used that same in another Shobbs fic and it stuck with me. If it wasn’t mentioned in the films, then all credits of the name goes to whoever I stole it from. Sorry, I hope you don’t mind.
> 
> Also, turn out Fridays are going to be the worst days of my week for next seven or so weeks, because I have full day of classes and they run late on Fridays. Really fun way to start the weekend, but at least I can look forward to posting on Saturdays, which I have set as the deadline for myself. So you can look forward to having a new chapter every Saturday (at the latest).

Deck is mentally composing his shopping list for the weekend, which is longer than usually because there will be an additional person to feed. Hattie is coming to visit, and Sam is beyond excited. The first time his sister met his – his _stepdaughter_ , and Deck will fully admit he got a little teary eyed when he first heard Sam introduce the two of them to her new friend as 'my dad and my stepdad' – the two of them hit it off frighteningly well. Deck's not quite sure how he feels about Sam’s hero worship of auntie Hattie. He's rather hoping that Sam will choose a career that involves a lot less bullets and criminal activity than what most of the adults in her life are in contact with too frequently.

That is also the reason why so far, Sam has met only Hattie. She has video chatted with his mum, but only when both Deck and Luke are present. Deck loves his mother, and she seems quite taken with Sam, but he also _knows_ his family. And while the way Deck and his siblings grew up wasn’t necessary the worst he has seen during his years, it’s also nothing like what he wants for Sam. Sam should play football and not plan running cons, she should go to birthday parties instead of heists and play with her friends, not pick fights with other kids. Self defense is good, picking a lock isn’t necessarily a bad skill, learning to jumpstart a car is not something Sam should learn to do before she’s way older, knife wielding skills belong into the kitchen and neither Luke nor Deckard wants her to even touch a gun.

So, while their families are slowly interacting with one another, Deck prefers to keep the amount of influence his blood family has on the small family he’s found for himself, in minimum. Plus, there are always the complicated relationships to consider. Luke likes Hattie, Luke’s mother and siblings like Hattie, Luke and Hattie are friends – though Deck still isn’t sure of his feelings about that – so Hattie is welcome to visit, even stay in their guest room when she does. And while Luke’s a bit wary of mama Shaw – which yeah, everyone with a working brain should be – he gets along with her, so video chats are okay. No one can get arrested over a video chat. Luke also hates his brother, and the feeling is quite mutual from Owen’s side as well. So, in order to keep a peace, Deckard tries to keep his partner and his brother as far from each other as possible. Preferably in different continents.

But back to the shopping list. He’s got most everything planned so far, with the exception of Saturday’s dinner. Luke’s only sister, Lisa, is going to join them as well, as a part of getting the families to know one another better. Having Lisa there isn’t a problem, Deck likes Lisa fine, they get along now, even when the start was a bit rocky. Lisa and Hattie get along quite well as well, but their diets less so, which is where the problem comes. Lisa doesn’t eat meat, with the exception of fish and other seafood. Hattie east a lot of things, likes meat and hates fish with passion. Luke is happy to eat most anything, but really loves meat and complains he never gets full when there’s just vegetables to eat. ' _I need protein, Deck, not rabbit food_.' Sam is an angel and the only one in this equation Deckard is actually sure will be happy.

Deck rather wishes he could ask help from the 'Red Dragon moms' message group. He only ever started to chat with the mothers attending the football practice, because he knows that Luke is secretly scared of them. Sure, the Samoan Thor likes the attention, and as long as they talk about football, he’s happy to interact with the mothers too, but otherwise he’s scared of the suburban housewives who wear pastel and drive minivans and talk about things that go way over his head. Which is hilarious. So, Deck started to chat with them while they were all waiting at the edge of the field, just to laugh at the bewildered looks his partner kept shooting at him. But then, week after week, Deck got to know the women better and found himself liking them. They have all the tactical skills of best operatives he’s seen and the commanding style of best military officers. Just because they use those skills to juggle their kids and partners and homes and jobs and keep everything and everyone in line, doesn’t make them any less effective or capable.

And Deck has found a lot of like-minded friends within the group. Sure he can’t talk about benefits of one gun over the other with them, or what he prefers in explosives, but he can swap recipes, or learn about the best places for shopping fresh products or best ways to get the grass stains (and surprising amount of tips for bloodstains as well) out of clothes. Plus, it never gets old to see Twinkle-toes squirm and try to deflect when they get invited to barbecue parties or lunches with the families. Luke doesn’t mind gatherings, they usually get invited to a barbecue once a month at the Toretto-O’Conner household with the whole team, but they are people who are like Luke, even the O’Conners who have left that life mostly behind. The people living in the suburbans live a bit different life, however, and Mr. I-eat-bullets-for-breakfast usually stands out like a sore thumb. Deck make’s it a point to accept at least one or two invitations per month, because he's just nice like that.

He’s pretty sure someone in their group would have an idea for Saturday’s lunch. Trina’s a professional chef, she has amazing recipes and Judy has six kids, she knows how to juggle with who likes what. And Emily’s twins seem to be allergic to about pretty much anything that used to breath or came out of something that used to breath, so she always has ideas of how to replace something in a recipe with something fitting a vegetarian diet. Also, they are all amazing with hiding healthy stuff in dinners in the way that their children or partners won’t notice, which are tips Deck has started to regularly use as well. He has a bet going on with himself for how long it takes for Luke and Sam to catch up.

So, Deck would like to message his friends, ask for ideas for the dinner. Maybe see how that rainbow birthday cake Martha was going to try is coming along. The whole thing sounded like a really messy process when she was describing it and he’s quite curious to know what the result is. Unfortunately, he’s currently mentally composing his shopping list while tied to a chair with zip ties. With no phone or opportunity to use one. Really, this is his life right now.

Of course, he could get away easily enough if he wanted to. Zip ties aren’t enough stop Deckard Shaw. They do, however, stop David Barnes, IT guy who wears bowties and tick framed glasses and happens to work in the Beale Air Force Base in Marysville, CA. The place that is a home to a chemical warfare service depot and a lot of sensitive information that’s crucial in keeping this country safe.

The bad guys of the week are after access to chemical warfare service depot, and the information they have on their computers, hence why they kidnapped the civilian consult IT person. Somebody – most probably this group – already hacked the chemical warfare service’s computers last week, and they don’t know what exactly they got from that, but because the hacking was interrupted, they didn’t get everything they needed. David Barnes has access to the Base and most of the computers in there, so now the criminals are using him to get the rest of whatever is that they are after, because thanks to some new security measures, hacking is no longer a possibility.

The reason why it’s _Deckard_ who’s playing that particular role of IT Barnes, is a bit less clear. Both Ramsey and Tej would have been much better suited for the role of _civilian_ IT person. But somehow, it’s still him, who’s sitting here, tied to a chair and waiting for the kidnappers to come in and threaten him.

There’s six of them, at least that’s how many are in the house where they are keeping him. Just because there was a hood on his head before, doesn’t mean he’s not aware what’s going on around him, and he could hear six different voices, and he’s relatively sure there weren’t anyone else with them. They put him into this small bedroom two hours ago and then left him alone. He knows exactly how long it has been, because there’s helpful clock on the wall, over the doorway. Classical, half naked Mickey Mouse, black background, red rim, the handles end in his white gloves and each one has one finger pointing at the number. Currently the fingers tell him that it’s ten minutes past ten in the morning, he was taken on his way to 'work'.

Deckard’s pretty sure his kidnappers are having brunch in the living room. He can hear the low murmur as they talk to one another, as well as smell the pastries, but annoyingly enough he can’t quite make out the words. Of course, it’s unlikely he would find out anything particularly interesting, but still, it’s getting pretty old pretty fast to just sit in here. The wait is probably meant to make him more nervous about the kidnapping, but Deck is mostly bored, and staring at the clock just makes time go slower, which is why he started the mental composing of shopping list. But now that that’s done, or at least as far as he can go with what meals he has planned, he’s hoping that they could hurry this thing along.

Sadly, Mickey’s gloves get to tick twenty more minutes forward, before he finally hears the scuffle of feet walking towards the door. _Fucking finally._ His arse is getting numb in this chair.

“Well then, mister Barnes, let’s see if you can help yourself by helping us,” one of the kidnappers says, opening the door.

When they started this mission, they weren’t sure what group was behind the hacking or the physical attempt of breaking into the Beale Air Force Base, but this guy in old band shirt, jeans and fuck-ugly monkey tattoo on his left forearm sounds every bit born and raised Californian. All of them were speaking English before, with American accents and having seem him, Deck is pretty sure they can scratch that foreign terrorist cell off their suspect list, along with domestic militant group. This man with his long, matted blond hair and those clothes don’t much scream militant. Or caring for personal hygiene for that matter.

“Why am I here?” Deck asks, sounding a bit more like himself that is probably necessary. Mr. Nobody said he should aim to keep his 'winning personality' under wraps, but he’s bored and annoyed. Besides, he hasn’t made any death treats yet, so he’s basically behaving perfectly nice so far.

“Because we need something, and you are in the position to help as get it.” Ugly-Monkey pulls a gun from the back of his jeans and gestures with it. “Now, I cut you out of that chair, and you give me no trouble, and you won’t get hurt. Understood?”

Deck nods, and sits quietly as Ugly-Monkey cuts the zip ties with scissors, which, really? What sort of criminal carries a pair of scissors around instead of a knife? Sure, you can stab someone with scissors. Actually, you can do a lot of damage with them – Deck knows that from personal experience – but usually scissors are selected as an impromptu weapon, because no self-respecting criminal or person who feels the need to use weapons carry scissors. This idiot, however, just pushes them back through the belt loop of his jeans, like some modern-day knight’s sword, half hidden under his too long – Spice Girls, from closer look, what’s wrong with this guy? – shirt, before gesturing with the gun to the direction of the door.

“Walk, slowly. Take left from the door.”

Deck isn’t big fan of getting told what to do, but IT guy David Barnes wouldn’t argue with a man with gun and ugly tattoo, so he makes his way through the house to the dining room. Faded floral curtains hang on grimy windows and the rest of the group are all standing around chipped, wobbly looking table. They move when he walks in, and he can see 'his' work laptop and another one next to it, on the table. Someone has also shoved whole, flatted down Froot Loops box under one leg to keep it level, but the table still rocks when one of the criminals moves to lean against it.

“Ah, mister Barnes, just the man we needed. We seem to have some problems with getting into your computer…” the boss of the group stars. He can be Big-Ears, Deck decides. And the one who is typing away with the other computer is Nose-ring. It’s not just Ugly-Monkey, none in this group looks like a militant, mostly they look like some gangsters. With bad sense of style.

Just like Mr. Nobody suspected, the criminals want his computer with its option to connect remotely with the computers at the base, as well as his ID card. The card they got from his pocket, but the computer is protected by some serious password protection, as well as his fingerprints. Deck tries to act reluctant at first, only giving in when Ugly-Monkey presses the gun to his head. Perfect.

He opens his laptop, and then connects it with the laptop Nose-ring is using, to allow that onto to be used to look around the chemical warfare service’s computers. Then he asks for a glass of water or something to drink, mostly to stall a bit before actually opening the access the criminals want. He gets a reusable plastic cup of some fizzy drink. Deck stares a moment at the grim-faced image of Captain America with his shield raised up, ready for a battle, at the side of the cup. Lovely.

His computer beeps, letting him know that the program that gives Ramsey the access to their kidnapper’s computer is ready and she is connected.

“What was that noise?” one of the men asks. Deck calls him Shaggy, he looks enough like the man from Sam’s cartoons.

“An email notification, probably my boss wondering why I didn’t come to work this morning,” Deckard lies and takes a sip his drink. He grimaces at the artificial cherry flavour and pushes the cup away.

“I want the access into those computers, now,” Big-Ears demands.

“Sure,” Deck nods, and starts typing. A message icon pops up. _Ten_. Deckard smirks and starts a count in his head, while pretending to still open the remote access for the criminals. Next to him Nose-ring is frowning down at his laptop, which suddenly seems to have escaped his command.

“What the hell…?” the man starts.

Deck reaches for Captain America again, and then throws the content of the cup at the face of the man closest to him as the count he has going on gets down to two. The man shouts, the criminals start to reach for their guns and the next second a creaking noise, followed by a loud crash, tells them that the front door just got kicked in.

There’s more shouting, both from the front of the house and in the dining room. Some of the criminals run towards the noise, some turn to him. Deck takes care of two of them. Shaggy goes down easily enough, the next one gives him a bit more trouble, before he too falls. While he's busy with the second guy, Deck sees Nose-ring grab his laptop and run towards the kitchen and the back door. Little Nobody’s voice rings out, telling him to freeze, put the computer down and put his hands in the air or he will get hurt. Didn't get far then. At the front of the house the criminals aren’t given as much choices, judging by the sounds of punches and a few louder crashes that come from bodies hitting walls and furniture.

Deck doesn’t bother with checking if his help is needed, he assumes it isn’t and instead concentrates on securing the remaining laptop. Soon the sounds of fighting die down and the archway between the living room and the dining room is filled by broad shoulders.

“Heard there was a kidnapping victim here, in need of a rescuing.”

“Only people here in need of rescuing would be those poor bastards on the floor.”

“But see, I was told there’d be a princess, locked in this hideous castle, kidnapped by some ogres. That's why I dashed here for, hoping to be the hero for rescue... Are you saying I won't get my Princess' kiss for my troubles, after all?”

He glances the other man over his shoulder, unimpressed. “I hate you.”

“With every inch of your body?” Luke offers with a grin. “Because that’s not a lot of inches then… Could almost charge them with a real _kid_ napping.”

“Funny. It's a wonder how you ever got the job you have, with how you abuse traumatised kidnapping victims…” Deck rolls his eyes and gathers the laptop to take with him. Ramsey’s access already means she can see everything hidden in it, but they still need the physical thing as well.

“Aww, don’t be mad. Some people just can’t help it if they’re a bit vertically challenged…”

“Well, I guess that’s better than being mentally challenged,” Deck quips back and smiles pleasantly at his partner.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No, you wouldn’t. It really is sad, to lack so much of self-awareness…”

Someone snorts rather loudly behind Luke, and the Samoan turns around to glare at one of Mr. Nobody’s agent, who is doing a poor job at pretending to be coughing. Deck stoops to picks up another item from under the table and then uses the opportunity where Luke isn’t filling the _whole_ doorway, to squeeze himself thought the gap between his oversized partner and the dining/living room entrance.

“You might want to take the two in there into custody,” he tells the agent, pointing towards the dining room. The young man almost jumps into action at the opportunity to escape. He, however, opts to go round the other way rather by Luke, who still largely blocks this entrance to the dining room.

“Did Ramsey manage to find something already from their computer?” Deck asks, starting to make his way towards the front door.

“Yes, we got the evidence that the attempted brake in at the base on Monday and the attempted hacking into chemical warfare service’s computers last week where both them,” Luke confirms, following after him. They stop to let two agents – who pull one of the criminals from a hole in the entrance hall’s drywall – to carry his unconscious body through the hole that used to be the front door.

Deck lifts a questioning eyebrow at his partner. “Went a real Hulk in here?”

“I had a Princess to rescue from evil kidnappers.”

“How is that the house’s fault?” Deck asks. “And don’t call me that _here_.”

Luke just grins. “No change darling. I know how upset you get without hearing that name.” Deck might get mad about having _that_ discussed here, but a hand brushes against his, fingertips pressing briefly to the back oh his hand. Silent apology for bringing the thing up, so he lets it slide.

They step through the hole in the door – which is more hole than door at this point – to a sorry looking front law. It’s not in much better shape that the house and is now also blocked by cars of Mr. Nobody’s agents. Some police officers seem to be mingled in the activity and on both sides of the street there is a gathering of noisy neighbours trying to see what the whole fuss is about. Deck doesn’t much care for any of them, just makes his way to one particular car, where he can make out Ramsey’s bare legs poking out of the open back door.

Little Nobody stops Luke on the way to the car, but Deck is left free to continue. He pokes one red converse with his own shoe and Ramsey’s curly head turns away from the tablet she’s working with.

“Hi!” wide smile takes over her face when she sees who interrupted whatever she was doing. A quick glance at her screens shows rows of brightly coloured jewels, so nothing too important then. “Ooh, I like those glasses. They suit you. Veeery sexy.”

“Why thank you, and this one is for you,” he gives her the laptop. “And hold that please.” He reaches up to remove the bowtie. Luke was making similar comments about the glasses, so Deck might keep them for a bit, but the bowtie has to go. He pops the first button of his button up as well and then takes the other item back from Ramsey.

“Do I wanna know?” she grins. He grins back.

“Do you actually have to ask?”

She giggles, shaking her head, but before she gets a chance to say anything else there’s a sudden, pained shout, and when Deck turn around to see what’s going on, he sees Ugly-Monkey running straight at him, with the stupid scissors poised for attack and gleaming in the sun. Ramsey lets out a quiet scream, and Deck steps more firmly in front of her, ready to take the man. Ugly-Monkey’s attack is however cut short by Luke, who seems to materialize from thin air behind him, to suddenly grabs the back of Ugly-Monkey's Spice Girls shirt and lifts him straight off the ground. The guy lets out a choked sound, drops the scissors in surprise and then most probably breaks his nose when he meets the bonnet of the closest SUV face first.

“Oh, wow.” Deck turn around to look at Ramsey, who’s staring at Luke wide eyed. “He’s _strong_. Seriously, he lifted that guy with just one hand like he weighted nothing!”

Well, Deck definitely agrees with that one, but it doesn't do to let her know everything of what the blatant show of Luke's strength does to him. “Are you going to start drooling next?” Deck questions. She rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m not going to try steal your man.”

“Hey, I didn’t expect you to,” he reassures her. “You just got bit starry eyed there… Don’t worry, it’s more normal than you think, just please try not to let him see. Man’s got big enough ego as it is…”

“Shut up,” she huffs, shoving him gently. “And just so you know, I like my partners bit on the slighter side, and shorter too. How do you even kiss him? With stepladder?”

“Shut up.” Now it’s his turn to gently shove her, but she just laughs.

“You two okay here?” Big hand settles onto his shoulder, and Deck can feel the rest of Luke not quite pressing against him, but close enough that if it was pretty much anyone else, he might feel uncomfortable to have them so close to his back.

“Yes, thank you for being the hero,” Ramsey gives Luke wide, beaming smile.

“Always glad to help,” the Samoan grins back, and then turn down to Deck. Squeezing his shoulder gently. “Okay?”

“You think one maniac who’s waving scissors around is enough to scare me?” Deck lift’s an eyebrow. Luke grins again, but it’s softer than the grin he gave at Ramsey. This one is all Deckard's. “Yeah, yeah. Softie. How’s the agent he got a jump at?”

“Mostly embarrassed. Physically it was just a small stab at hand.”

“Good,” Deck nods, and then because the opportunity is better than he could have hoped for, he presses the plastic Captain America cup he took with him to Luke’s hand. Not the kiss he was asking for earlier, but Deck things it will do for now. That kiss they can discuss later, in more private setting. “Here’s a trophy goblet, for our hero of the hour.”

Luke blinks down at the cup and Ramsey presses a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles. Deck just smiled winningly at Luke, when the man looks from the grim faced Captain America to him.

“You have to admit, the similarities are striking.”

It was meant as a joke, but later, Deck finds the cup sitting at the front row in their glass cabinet. And most mornings, the cup makes it way to the sink to be carefully hand washed, so it can be used again the next day after Luke’s morning workout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how well this ended up fitting in the theme of the hero rescuing his Princess, because the chapter went to a bit different direction than I originally intended... Then again, there are many ways to be the hero, so this time Luke got the title little more easier. And while the name of the chapter doesn't fit quite so well this than the original idea where Luke actually was supposed to rescue "kidnapped" Deck, I was so happy with the name, that I didn’t change it.
> 
> Also, Deck totally buys Luke a new, nice Hulk coffee mug to go with his Captain America plastic cup. After which Luke buys him a matching Disney Princess plastic cup and probably a whole collection of Princess themed coffee mugs for his tea because there’s too many brilliant ones to choose just one that would fit Deckard. I googled them and now I kinda want a princess mug for myself as well…


	4. Swooning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe we're almost through the first moth of the year already, time goes so fast sometimes. But anyway, here's the new chapter, which is also the longest one so far. I hope it doesn't feel to ooc, it might be a bit, but I like how it turned out to be, so if it feels like that, just blame it on the circumstances...

“Sweetheart?” Even without the pet name – which neither of them would normally use over comms when out with the whole team – the tone of his voice – exaggeratedly questioning – would be enough of a clue that whatever question is going to follow, will be rhetorical in nature.

“Yes Dear?” Deck answers back sweetly, hands busy with rigging a new explosion.

“Half of this compound seems to be on fire,” Luke states. “And by the sounds going on, the cause is probably explosives.”

“Mmhh. How unfortunately for the assholes who tried to blow us up yesterday...” He sets the timer to four minutes and starts to head to the exit, before the blast rips the building apart. “But you know what they say about karma being a bitch.”

Deck hears a low snort of laughter that sounds a lot like Toretto and Pearce’s laugh rings loud over the comms. He smirks, not feeling bad for the property damage, really, the aforementioned assholes did start the whole thing. Plus, they nearly forced Luke’s car over the side of a bridge during a chase the day before yesterday. If Toretto hadn’t been near… In Deck’s books, these Bringers of a New Era – BoaNE for short, which just… _Really?_ Stupid ass name if you ask him, and it makes him think beans, possibly with baked potato, which then makes him hungry – deserve any and all misfortune he can possibly offer to them.

“Besides, you were the one who told us to make sure the BoaNE boys are busy elsewhere, so you all can do your parts. And I can assure you, blowing up someone’s weaponry holds or mess halls keeps them busy.”

“Your boy has a point,” Toretto remarks, sounding half-distracted with something else. Luke grunts.

“Well we for one are thankful that you keep the trigger-happy fellows busy elsewhere, as we found the main computer,” Letty announces. “Tej is just copying everything on it, we’ll destroy it and head out of here as soon as he’s done.”

“Good, Rome, how’s it looking at your end?” Toretto checks.

“Almost done, just disabling this last car and then I’m outta here as well.”

“How are you doing, Dom?” Letty asks.

“We think we found where they have those explosives stored, just have to get in,” Luke answers for the two of them. There’s a screeching of metal sound at the background, which probably is involved in that ‘get in’ part.

“Let me know if you need any help.”

“Nah, you take that information out of here, that’s our main mission,” Dominic says.

“Toretto’s right, information comes first, getting these explosives next and confiscating or destroying their stuff is secondary for that,” Luke reminds them all.

“Ooh, _confiscating_ , aren’t we using fancy words.”

“And if Pearce’s done with their vehicles, he can come give us a hand,” Luke continues like the man hadn’t talked at all. Deck’s pretty sure that comment just earned Pierce the new job. There’s some muttering on the man’s end, and Deck grins to himself.

He steps out of the empty barrack building – their bad guys have taken refuge in old military base – and takes a wary glance at the sky. The building behind him goes up in flames and the sudden heat washes over him, before it’s gone, leaving behind same, chilly air they have been dealing all week long. The misty grey colour of the sky from this morning has deepened to darker, blue grey mass and the clouds are swirling in a way that tells him that rain isn’t far off. November in North Ireland and the bite of the wind has been particularly sharp all day. There’s fifty-fifty chance that it will come down more sleet than water. Not something Deckard is particularly looking forward to, but nothing he won’t survive either. The whining of the team is going to be annoying as hell, tough.

“They said it wouldn’t start to rain until evening.”

He turns to look at his sister and lifts an eyebrow. “So we can expect to get wet any minute now?”

Hattie snort. “Probably, come on. I’d rather get out of here before all you sensitive people, so used to that Californian heat, start to complain about how you’re developing frostbites.”

“You know I live in England as well, don’t you?” he deadpans.

“And you have spent exactly how much time in London during the last year or so? And no, the mission during a heat wave in August doesn’t count.”

He thinks for a moment, and then shrugs. “Fine, but that doesn’t mean that my ability to handle some freezing rain has necessarily become non-existent.”

“Deck, when have you ever _not_ been cold?” Hettie asks, rising her eyebrows. “You wore a coat, in Samoan!”

Okay, so he has always run cold rather than hot, so maybe Hattie has a point. But no way is he telling her that he’s all toasty warm whenever he’s wrapped into Luke’s arms, because the Hulk does in fact run hot. Like, really, physically hot.

“Let’s just get this thing done,” he mutters.

“What I said! I take the last three on the left, you take the two on the right.”

“No, _I_ take the ones on the left, _you_ take the ones on the right.” Hattie glares at him, he glares back. It doesn’t matter any which way, which one of them does which, but just on principle he can’t let his little sister call the shots.

“Tej and I are moving out now,” Letty announces suddenly.

“Good,” Toretto confirms. Deck uses the brief moment Hattie stops to listen them, to start to walk towards the last three building on the left side. Hattie flicks him the V and turns towards right, he blows a kiss at her.

The first building Deckard enters ends up being empty, just some old office desks, chairs and filing cabinets. Judging by the amount of dust and grime on every surface, their targets haven’t even been using it. He sets the explosives all the same. Hattie steps out of her building at the same time than him, and then smiles at him annoyingly when her building goes up in the flames first. His does bigger explosion, however, so Deck feels well justified in returning her smirk.

Next building has weapons in it, which means that Deckard uses a bit more time going through them, before setting the explosives. Hattie lets him know halfway that she is done with her search. He tells her to go help Luke, Dominic and Pierce with removing the explosives. The information gathering was the main mission, finding and confiscating the explosives BoaNE stole from military is second to that. Destroying their weapons is mostly bonus. Hattie gives him affirmative and Deck concentrates back to the job at hand.

The building, alongside the weapons, goes up in flames, just like all the ones he and Hattie have been checking for weapons and anything else important. Only about half of the group is actually here today, the rest are somewhere else, preparing to their ‘big hit’ but they don’t where, hence the information stealing. And stealing their explosives that probably are involved in the big hit. Plus just generally making sure the rest of the group is left without most of their possessions.

The wind carries first little droplets over as Deck turns towards the last building. It means that the rain isn’t just about to start but has rather already started somewhere nearby. And is probably moving to their direction. _Yeah, time to go_.

The moment he steps in the building, it gives off a feeling of being used. There’s couple coats hanging on hooks by the door, and a pair of muddy wellies left lying on to floor under them. The air is also much warmer than outside. Probably one of the barracks they have used for sleeping. There was a group of about twenty BoaNE boys who came running when he and Hattie first started their building searching and blowing. Deck’s pretty sure this is where they were staying. He looks around, but everything looks empty and apart from unmade bunkbeds and dirty clothes in two different sleeping areas, and some unwashed dishes in one that holds a few tables and a microwave, there’s much nothing interesting around.

“Deck, where are you?” Luke’s voice comes over the comms. “Toretto and I are loading last of the explosives now. Hattie and Pierce just left with half of them.”

“Just checking the last place, Twinkle-toes, but it seems to be empty. No more weapons, just some sleeping quarters. Or pigsty, which ever you prefer… I blow this thing up and catch you at the gates.”

“Okay, just hurry up. Looks like the rain will start to come down any minute now.”

“Yes captain, my captain.” He doesn’t need to _see_ Luke to _know_ he’s rolling his eyes at the response.

Deck pulls the last C4 bar from his backpack, contemplates for a moment if he should just use the whole thing up, but breaks it in half anyway. No reason to waste it, might come handy before they get this whole mission done.

He has the explosive all set and has just pushed the timer button, when he hears a noise behind him. Deck pivots around, hands automatically falling into defence position. He’s crouched, which is not necessarily a great position, and leaves him in disadvantage. The heavy club the man swings catches his arm instead of the back of his head. Deck pushes it to a side and leaps up, immediately going for a kick. His opponent clearly wasn’t expecting that – or how high he _can_ kick – because he lets out a pained oof, and folds down a little when Deck’s combat boot connects with the soft area just under his ribcage. Deck presses for the advantage, mercilessly starting to pummel the man with hits.

He knows he's good, but so is his opponent, it seems. The man is also unfortunately about half a head taller than Deck is, and probably half as heavy, too. Still, Deck has trained all his life to fight against bigger opponents, and his strength is in his speed and agility. And the fact that he has rather unique style of fighting, which usually leaves his opponents somewhat unbalanced, with the way he alternates seamlessly between kicks and punches, and don’t ever hesitate to use dirty tricks if given the opportunity.

Luke would have probably beaten him during that first fight they had, if he hasn’t used that explosive. The Samoan has sheer, nearly unmatched strength at his side, if he manages to pin his opponent, they usually don’t have a chance. And Deck, surprisingly, doesn’t nowadays mind so much that Luke can best him. Especially since their sparring matches at home usually end up in enjoyable shower afterwards, where the winner can claim his ‘price’.

The man he’s fighting right now, Deck, however, won’t let beat himself. So he kicks, aiming high and then delivering one low, throwing altering amount of punches in the middle before going to another set of kicks, just dancing around his opponent in quick feet. The whole thing wouldn’t actually be so bad – it’s a nice change to get to throw some punches at a worthy enough opponent – if not for the fact that the timer he set is quickly counting down. _Fuck, I really have to get out of here._ _The explosion will go off soon_. Just as Deckard thinks that, the guy manages to connect a good one, and for a moment Deck sees stars.

“Come on little man,” the bigger man taunts him. “You ready to give up already?”

Deck snarls, and charges. The man catches him around the middle, just like Deck hoped he would. He uses the hold and their momentum in advance as he pushes up, flipping himself off the ground and getting his thighs around the man’s neck. He goes down, but Deck doesn’t let go, just follows him to the floor. The man struggles, finally managing to pry Deck off, but he’s on his feet in the next second, aiming a kick to the man’s head.

 _Peep_.

“Shit!” Deck curses, when the warning goes out, he’s out of time. There’s no way to make it to the door anymore, he’ll have to go through the window. He turns around, starts to move and then a hand grabs his ankle, pulling him down.

“What ar-” he never gets to hear what the man was about to say, because there’s a deafening noise and then darkness.

…

Deck wakes up slowly, coughing pitifully. He’s in pain, and his ears are ringing. It takes him much longer than is probably a good sing, to remember what happened. When he finally does remember, it takes still more time to put the pieces together. _The explosion… Shit, how am I even alive?_ Deck lifts his head, and pain explodes inside his skull. He might pass out for a moment.

…

Next time he tries, the pain is still there, but he manages to take a look around.

There are thankfully no fires going on. And why is that? It almost feels like he should know… _Ugh, too hard to think. What else?_ Piece of concrete which probably was a wall, or possibly a ceiling, lies on top of his lover half, and half of his upper half as well. Basically, he’s pinned from toes to near to his shoulders. There’s no way he can move it, but when he tries to carefully move his legs and arms under the concrete, everything seems to at least work. Which is pretty much a miracle.

They had fought their way across the room that used to be a kitchen of sorts, but even when opposite side of the room from the explosion, it should have killed him still, or at least injured him worse. So why didn’t it?

The air is tick with dust, and a coughing fit tickles at the back of his throat. He gives in, the pain in his head pulses and-

…

Deck blinks himself awake for the… third time? Maybe. _Oh, head really hurts right now._ He turns it very, _very_ carefully to a side as much as he can, trying to take as deep breath as possible and prays not to have another coughing fit. The nausea he feels thankfully tones down a little and he sighs. Then his eyes land on the other man. He’s clearly dead. With surprising clarity, Deck realises that the man is probably the reason he’s still alive. They were both down on the floor when everything went _bang_ , but the guy was between Deck and the bomb. He had just pulled Deck flat on the floor, rising himself up a bit. His body would had gotten the brunt of the explosion. _Huh, look at that…_

Then he starts to couch again and-

…

The next time Deck becomes aware of anything, there’s a voice. Distant, but getting closer. Calling for… him? Maybe.

“-ard! Deck, please!”

“Luke?” he asks. Or maybe mumbles. Or maybe he just thinks he says it, when actually no sound come out at all. _Head feels so heavy now…_

“Deckard!”

“Luke?” He tries again. There’s a pause and then:

“Deck, sweetheart? Where are you?”

Where is he? On the floor. Under the …wall? Ceiling? _It’s heavy, take it off, please._

“Deck, say something!”

“Luke.” It’s the only thing he can think to say. And then heavy feet, sound of rubble moving, and someone drops down to their knees next to him. Big hands frame his face, thumbs brushing away the tears that have trickled down from the corners of his eyes. _When did that happen?_ The pain makes it so hard to think.

“Hey, hey I’m here Princess. I found you. I found you.”

“Luke,” he sighs, feeling suddenly unexplainably relieved. Luke found him, all’s going to be okay now. His eyes flutter shut, and few more tears of pain? relief? trickle down.

“Hey, keep those pretty eyes of yours open for me, Princess. Okay?”

“Okay,” Deck mumbles, not sure why, but feeling like he should agree with whatever Luke wants.

“Deck.”

“Mmmh?” He blinks his eyes open when he feels a gentle tap against his cheek.

“I said keep your eyes open. Yeah, like that, good boy. You’re doing so well sweetheart. Now, let’s get you out oh here, okay? Do you think I could move this off on you?”

The words kind of run together, the gentle, familiar rumble of his voice and the soothing tone of it the most prominent things Deck listens for, so it takes a moment for his brain to understand the question, and then he stares at the wall/ceiling/big piece of concrete on top of him, not sure what to make of it. “It’s heavy,” Deck finally manages to get out. He’s not quite sure if that’s what Luke asked, or if it is even what he planned to say.

“Won’t be a problem,” Luke wink at him. “But do you think it will cause some damage if I move it?

Deck kind of wants to shake his head a bit, to clear it, but doesn’t dare. Instead he takes a couple of moderately deep breaths, blinking a bit, while Luke waits patiently. “No, don’t think so. Just couldn’t move it myself,” he pieces together an answer, eyes falling shut momentarily, before there’s another gentle tap at his face.

“Eyes open, darling.” Luke reminds him, before he takes a hold of the concrete, and just lifts it off of Deck. His arm muscles bulge as he pushes the concrete to a side and just like that, Deck is free.

“Can you move?” Luke asks, reaching his hands out to help.

“Yeah,” Deck sighs, taking one hand, letting the other curl around him. Luke lifts his very carefully, while Deck pushed up and-

…

“Back with me?”

It takes him a moment to recognise the compact west under his cheek, but the body curled around him, holding him securely, he recognises at once. He’s half sitting on Luke’s lap, his partner’s arms around him, Deck’s head tucked under Luke’s chin. It’s a familiar position.

“Deck?”

“Yeah, just, head hurts,” he answers.

“You probably have one hell of a concussion,” Luke says, pressing achingly tender kiss at the top of his head. “There’s a gash at the back of your head and rather sizable lump as well.”

“Mmh.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Deck’s breathing falling into a rhythm with the chest moving underneath him, before Luke asks if he feels ready to try again. Deck really doesn’t want to, but he’s pretty sure that Luke wants him to say yes.

“Mhhh, yeah, okay.”

The arms around him sift, chancing their hold and Luke moves positions, gets his legs under himself, until he can get them both up, with minimal help from Deck.

“On three. On, two, three, up!”

Black spots dance across Deckard’s vision and there’s no way he could keep himself up without the support of his partner, but he doesn’t pass out again, so there’s that.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here?” It comes out more of a question than Deck was aiming for, but Luke just smiles down at him and nods.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Luke ends up supporting most of Deck’s weight on the way out. Everything feels fuzzy still and his legs seems to catch every pieces of rubble on their way, so that in most places, Luke simply lifts him over them, instead of having him navigate his own way over or around the pieces of concrete and furniture and what else, which, probably, saves them a lot of time.

When they finally reach the door, Luke sets Deck to lean against the wall for a moment. Deck feels quite thankful for the chance to rest a bit, because walking has made his head spin even more and the pain at the back of his head seems to throb to the beat of his heart, with pulses of pain pushing through his skull at every beat. He feels cold and sweaty at the same time and overall just so shaky, and he’s so, _so_ glad that Luke is with him. His big, badass partner who can and _will_ protect them both, if there’s still a bad guy lurking around somewhere.

Deckard actually knows his limits – unlike some persons he knows – and he’s well aware that he’s not in any condition to fight right now. But Luke is. And Luke’s right here and Deck knows that everything will be okay now.

“Here, Princess.” Something warm is wrapped around his shoulders and Deck blinks his eyes open – when did he close them again? – to see that Luke has stripped his coat off and put it on him. Deck makes a questioning sound as Luke carefully guides his arms through the sleeves, before sipping the coat up. It’s way too big on him, but also very warm. Deck feels the heat coming from the material, warmed by the body of his partner. And suddenly he’s aware just how cold he is, and damp too _. Why am I damp?_

“Don’t want you to catch a cold,” Luke murmurs and pushes the door open so the distant sound of what is the rain pelting down, hard, becomes clearer. Right, the rain. It probably has been raining for some time now and the room he just was had holes on the ceiling and big windows, all broken. He just didn’t really notice the wetness before.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Luke says, pulling Deck away from the wall. “You need a doctor.”

They stumble down the few stairs and Deck can make out the shape of one of the jeeps they were driving earlier in the distance, even when the quickly deepening darkness hides it pretty well. It only then occurs to him to ask where the others are. He remembers something about Hattie and Pearce leaving before he set the explosive, but wasn’t Dominic with Luke?

“Where are the others?”

“Toretto and I were the only ones left, we were waiting for you at the gate but when you didn’t show up, I got worried. Tried to call you at the comms but you didn’t answer so I told him to go, take the explosives away while I took the remaining car and came to look for you.”

“You came for me?” Deck asks, even when he knows the answer already.

“Damn sure I did. I always come for you, don’t I Princess?”

He smiles up at Luke, and pays immediately for turning his attention elsewhere, because his already bit wavering feet slip on the wet grass the minute he’s not carefully paying attention to them. Deck yelps, and the arms around his body tighten, keeping him upright. He has to blink a few times, spots dancing in his vision again because he moved his head too fast. Ugh, and the nausea is back.

“Deck?”

“Give me a minute or I might throw up on you,” he mutters, eyes tightly closed, trying to concentrate on his breathing. _In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth_.

Luke is thankfully familiar enough with concussions and the nausea they provide, to let Deckard have his minute, not hurrying him along even when they’re both getting soaked in freezing rain. The only positive side of the rain is the fact that the cold waters pouring over them is both numbing the pain in the back of Deck’s head a little, as well as clearing his head.

“Okay, I’m good.” He announces when the nausea passes, and it starts to feel less like, like he’s about to throw all over his rescuer. Suddenly Deck feels so tired and miserable all over, and the car looks like it’s still miles away. He probably makes some sound or something, because Luke’s hold of him tightens slightly.

“Okay Princess, I think it’s time we move this forward a bit. Take a deep breath,” Luke instructs, and Deck complies without actually thinking about it and then the world tilt. He squeezes his eyes closed, and only opens them again when the feeling of his body moving without his own influence, stops.

“What are you doing!” he groans, arms winding tightly around Luke’s shoulders.

“Hurrying us along,” Luke answers and starts to stride towards the car, Deck in his arms. In _bridal carry_. Deck’s not quite sure whether he should be more graceful or annoyed about the whole thing.

“My legs are fine, you Caveman,” he complains, but by then they have already reached the car.

“Caveman, huh? Well, what you know, there’s the Deckard Shaw we all know and love, alive and kicking after all,” Luke teases, while he manoeuvres Deck easily enough on the front passenger seat and buckles him up. Deck just huffs, feeling a sudden warmth flushing in his chest at the word love. It’s not like they _don’t_ say it, but it doesn’t come up that often. A kiss is pressed against his brow, and Deck blinks at Luke who just smiles at him, cupping his face briefly, before he closes the car door, and walks around to slip behind the wheel.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Luke has the heating blasting in full force as they drive, and surprisingly doesn’t fight it when Deck closes his eyes. So, he leans against the cool window, letting his eyes fall shut. He’s hears Luke phone someone on their way but doesn’t really pay attention to it. Mostly Deck just keeps drifting off to a half dreaming state, only dimly aware of what is happening around him.

By the time Luke pulls the car in a big garage, and kills the engine, Deck is mostly asleep. The gentle lulling motion of the moving car stops, and a hand strokes his cheek gently, coaching him back to wakefulness.

“Deck, sweetheart. We’re here,” Luke announces.

“Hmm?” Deck slits his eyes open, feeling woozy and tired. Luke unbuckles him, and then he’s gone and then the door on Deck’s side is opened and there’s his partner again. Deck smiles tiredly at him.

“Come on, Princess, I’m sure your head is killing you and there are medics inside, just waiting for you.”

Deck groans, because he’s so tired and his head hurts and it will hurt even more if he moves and it feels too much of an effort to move altogether, even when some rational part of his brain, still working, tries to tell him that the medics probably have some nice painkillers waiting for him, if he can find the will to move.

“Do you want me to get the medics for you? They can move you with a stretcher or a wheelchair. Or would you prefer to try walking?”

If Deck was bit more alert, he probably wouldn’t ever consider this, but instead he just wants to sleep and have Luke close by and not some unfamiliar medic personnel – painkillers or not – so he reaches his hands out, winding them over Luke’s shoulders again.

“No medics,” he murmurs.

“You sure?” his partner asks, his hands pulling Deck closer until he can rest his head against Luke’s shoulder. _Ooh, that’s nice…_

“Just want you...”

“Well, you definitely got me, but you also need to see a doctor.”

“Don’t want wheelchair...” he mumbles, pressing his forehead more firmly in the lovely place he found for himself. Thankfully Luke seems to finally get what Deck can’t seem to find the words to ask for, because he sifts his hold.

“Okay then, hold on.”

Luke lifts him from the car and adjusts his hold a bit, one hand firmly around Deck’s back, the other underneath his knees, before turning around and starting to walk while being very careful as to not jostle Deckard. Deck tries to see where they are going but the lights in the garage are too bright, so he ends up hiding his face in the crook of Luke’s neck again, trusting his partner to take care of everything.

There are voice nearing them, and Deck can make out the low rumble of Dominic, the higher notes of Letty and his sister – both who sound worried. One of the voices might be Mr. Nobody, but his head really hurts now and he’s so tired, so he just presses his head tighter against Luke’s shoulder, squeezed with his hands a bit more and maybe lets out a tiny whimper, so faint that no one else thankfully seem to pick it up, but Luke probably does because squeezes back a bit and then they are moving again.

Luke carries him through the corridors to the medical bay, not once complaining about Deck’s weight or needing to adjust his hold. So strong, and yet so gentle with him that in his hold, Deck really feels a bit like a princess held in hero’s arms.

Deck wakes to a kiss pressed against his forehead.

“I don’t want to wake yet”, he complains, or at least wants to, though he’s pretty sure that it comes out a lot less clear. There’s a chuckle and then hand, big and warm, curls around his.

“Okay Sleeping Beauty, you keep sleeping then. There’s some dinner if you want, but it will keep.”

Deck scrunches his nose at the name, but he’s too comfy to complain. Head bandaged, dressed in dry, warm clothes and curled up in a bed in the medical bay, with the room pleasantly dark and his partner by his side. Deckard lets out a quiet, content sigh.

“Sleep, Princess,” Luke murmurs, and for once, Deck is happy to obey. Luke’s here, he can sleep knowing that his partner won’t let anyone come in and disturb him. No nurses, assassins or worried but still annoying sisters will get past his very own guardian, not without Luke letting them.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, more than half asleep again.

“For what?”

“For coming to save me. My hero.”

Deck falls asleep to one of his most favourite sounds ever: Luke’s happy laughter.


	5. Wishing for a hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one of Luke being the hero, because in the next one it's Deck to the rescue. I hope you have enjoyed these so far, I did purposely try to come up with different scenarios where Deck might either be in a need of a hero, or willing to have Luke play that role for him.
> 
> I'm posting this one a bit early (and during break between classes that I should probably use to do something else entirely) because I'll be going to my mum's for the weekend to celebrate her birthday. I haven't yet really started the last chapter, which will no have to be fit somewhere with the classes next week... so if you have time, leave a comment, those are a huge inspiration that gets me to write :)

Deckard _knows_ that his deadpan face, as well as his whole body, are just screaming _NOT INTERESTED_ in capital letters, and still the man doesn’t seem to take the hint. All he does is to continue his monologue – really Deck stopped listening a while back – and increases the times he reaches to touch Deck’s arm while he talks. And whenever he does so, Deck glares at him and takes half a step back, which is then countered by the man taking half a step forward. By now Deck’s really tempted to just empty his whiskey glass onto the man’s stupid, white tuxedo jacket and then follow that by smashing the crystal against his stupid face.

Well, that’s what Deckard really wishes to do, but instead he’s forced to remain civilized.

They are here for work, which he keeps reminding himself of. Tailing a bigtime arts/other illegal luxury items smuggler, who, according to their employer’s intel, is now suspected of turning in to helping terrorists. Said smuggler, Jack Stane, is also interested in art himself, and is currently attending a big-ass charity gala held in the local museum. Where, _coincidentally_ , Deckard also happens to be, too. So, causing a scene just because one annoying man can’t take the hint and keeps hitting on Deckard doesn’t mean that Deck should break his cover. Or pull any unnecessary attention to himself, like, say by breaking another guest’s nose or possibly his jaw.

If only Deck was free to move around, he could try to shake the guy off, but no, he must stand right where he currently is. Close to the bar situated at the end of the big entrance hall, which has been transformed for a party room for the gala. And more importantly, the museum’s main control room that’s just behind the wall next to the bar, so that the signal jammer hidden in his pocket remains close enough to the intended target to actually give Ramsey the time she needs to hack into the museums system, when Tej gives the signal to activate the jammer.

They already have access to the cameras in the museum, which were ridiculously easy to hack into, but with their target being suspected of using the museum in his smuggling business, they also need to get access into the museum’s computer logs. Those, on the other hand, are protected much better, which might make one question the priorities of whoever oversees the security in this place.

This part – mainly, pushing the button of the jammer when told to – doesn’t require much brains nor knowledge of anything technological, but still Deck found himself being selected for it. Normally, he might have argued that his skills would have been more useful somewhere else, but since the main reason he’s the one infiltrating this gala came down to the fact that he’s actually the only one of their group who can pass for a _cultured_ rich guy, he couldn’t exactly argue. Letty is here as well, but when she puts on an expensive looking dress and wears sparkly jewellery, then suddenly most people in here won’t even care if she knows anything about art or not. She might just be a date, or a woman who came to be seen, not because for a passion for art. But stupidly enough, you can’t do the same as a man in these kind of parties, and if they were to put any men of their group into a tuxedo, they might pass for a rich guy, until they open their mouth. And that’s not just because they are street racers, they just don’t have a right kind of accent for a party like this.

The sad part of this is, Deck’s on his own when it comes to trying to shake his current admirer, since Letty is tailing Stane. And Deckard is _really_ starting to wish he had Luke with him. One look at his partner is usually enough to make it clear he’s neither available nor interested. And trying anything is a sure way to get bodily harmed.

“… and I just _love_ that style, you know? I have three of his paintings and I’m currently looking to buy…”

No such luck today.

Deck was – rightfully so, he thinks – a bit suspicious when the man showed his interest first. He’s bit taller than Deck, but more stick than buff and with a fake tan that’s a lot more carrot than bronze, too white teeth, and very oblivious fake blond hair shade. So not anyone Deck would have been interested in, even _if_ he was looking. Deckard, on the other hand, seems to be plenty interesting for him. And really, what makes a bald, mean looking Brit that attractive that the guy can’t just take a no for an answer?

So, Deck thought that he was working an angle here, that he had been made. But a signal to Tej who’s parked in a van half a block away and monitoring the place from there, had him running the man’s face through facial recognition. And just to be sure he also did some background search. Both, unfortunately, shoved that one Killian Justin’s only angle is a desperate attempt to get laid. Which means that there is absolutely no good reason for Deck to – well, deck him.

Also, Justin is – for all his fake-on-fake looks – rich and not used to getting a no for an answer. Too bad that Deck’s not the kind of man to say yes when he’s already decided on no, no more than he’s the kind of man to even look elsewhere when he’s in relationship with someone. Even if the person he’d been looking was actually good looking.

So, he’s stuck with an admirer who he’s not interested in, nor does he want to be interested in him, but who he also can’t seem to get rid of. And he has tried. Deck stopped from both answering or acknowledging Justin a while back, but so far, no luck in him growing bored. Actually, he seems to just think that Deck is ‘playing hard to get’ which, of course, makes him all that more alluring. Deckard contemplated with answering something rude to him in possibly Russian, or maybe Japanese, but with how _absolutely hot_ Justin found his natural accent to be, he’s more than halfway afraid to find out just how sexy a Brit who knows more than one language could be in the man’s eyes. So now Deck just keeps quiet and does his best in ignoring Justin’s whole existence.

If he could have just taken Luke as his arm candy… Because maybe Justin would finally, actually get what _taken_ means, when confronted by a mountain of man, who thankfully isn’t ashamed to show the world what the two of them mean for each other.

Justin is describing in detail the heated pool in his house, when the small com in Deck’s ear comes to life. He doesn’t quite sigh in relief but it’s a close thing.

 _“Okay people, it’s show time so be ready. On the count of five,”_ Tej’s voice announces, before he starts to count. _“Five.”_

Deck meets Letty’s eyes halfway across the room, where she’s positioned to their target’s tail. She nods subtly, he tilts his glass to her.

_“Four.”_

Deck turns his attention away, lifts his glass and empties it in one go.

_“Three.”_

“Oh, let me get you another one those,” Justin offers immediately. Probably thinking of getting Deck drunk.

Deck gives him insincere smile and slips his right hand into his trouser pocket.

_“Two.”_

“How nice of you,” he says, just to get rid of the man for a minute.

_“One.”_

Justin turns towards the bar. Deck’s fingers settle onto the button of the signal jammer.

_“Go!”_

Deck activates the jammer, Tej kills the power in the building and people scream when the lights flicker, leaving them in the dark before the faint glow of greenish emergency lights kick in. And just as they do so, four men glad in all-black and with their face’s covered, storm into the room, each brandishing an automatic rifle.

Now people are really screaming. Letty is performing an Oscar worthy role by hanging onto Stane’s arm and screaming in fright right into his ear. Deck must admit that the four men all at least _look_ menacing when you can’t see their faces. Especially the two in the middle, all hard muscle and broad shoulders visible even in their compact style attires. The one on the left big enough to tower over most of the room. Hopefully people will remain cooperating while being threatened by them – well, at least as long as both Pierce and Little Nobody also keep their mouths shut and leave the talking for the other two.

Toretto takes a step forward, and then informs everyone in frighteningly level voice that they are here to rob the place and that no-one will get hurt, as long as everyone does as they’re told to do. So, they should all just sit down on the floor and wait quietly. Unsurprisingly, people do so without any complaining about their nice clothes. Deck complies along the rest.

“Good, now my associates here will collect all your phones, watches and jewellery. Notice that we will let you keep your fancy car keys, and as long as anyone doesn’t try to play the hero, you will even keep your wedding rings.”

They are going to return everything of course, when the authorities ‘catch’ the robbers. Unfortunately, they all will manage to escape, but most of their catch will have to be left behind. So, people will get back their stuff, once they manage to catch their smuggler. Still, Toretto was adamant that the guests should keep their wedding rings. Deck thinks that that’s stupid, but it’s not like there isn’t enough to rob even without the rings.

They talked also about whether to take some art pieces as well, but quickly came to the conclusion that that would a) take too much time and b) it’s much easier to transfer just phones and jewellery around without damaging them, than do so with art. So, their ‘robbers’ are simply after easy money with robbing the rich people from things that are easy enough to sell, like technology and jewellery, latter which they are all wearing in big amounts. The gala is obliviously a place for them to show off. Justin alone is wearing big pink diamond cufflinks and flashy ring in his right hand, plus a wristwatch that costs way over 10, 000 dollars and his fancy phone was probably closer to thousand as well. Most men are wearing similar things, and the women have even more jewellery on them.

“Declan are you okay?” a low voice asks behind him.

 _Damn_. Deck did hope that Justin would have been far enough from him when the robbery started, so that he couldn’t just worm his way back. Apparently not. Deck switches his grimace to a scared look, thankful of the low lightning, before turning towards the current bane of his existence.

“Mr. Justin-”

“For the last time Declan, please, it’s Killian.”

_Really? In the middle of a robbery?_

“ _Killian_ ,” he stresses. “I don’t think we should be talking right now.” _Actually, I would prefer it that you’d shut up even without the robbery going on…_

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” the man just continues like he didn’t hear Deck at all.

Which, okay, he has been doing for the last hour or so. But Deck really doesn’t need Justin attempting to play a hero in order to get into Deck’s pants. There’s only one person who’s allowed to play any kind of hero in order to impress Deck, and as satisfying as it would be to see Luke the robber take Justin down, they are strictly under orders to not actually hurt anyone in here. Even when they are being annoying idiots.

“Really, I’m fine. Let’s just do as we’re told to and get through this. Please?” That last part he adds as an afterthought, trying to look pleading as he stares at Justin, instead like he just really wants to strangle the man himself. The man in question opens his mouth and then stops death in his tracks as his eyes grow wide in alarm. Deck doesn’t even need to turn around to see which of the robbers has just stopped to stand behind his back.

When he does turn around, it’s while suppressing a smirk as he cranes his neck to take in the mountain of a man in full compact gear and unnecessarily big handgun strapped to his thigh. In their line of work, that thigh holster and all the other gear _really_ shouldn’t get Deckard as hot as it does. Not to mention how big his partner really is when he looms over Deckard, at his knees in front of him. Talk about being a real Hulk…

Brown eyes twinkle as they meet Deckard’s own from the slit of his commando mask. The heat of that gaze is unmistakable, and Deck is sure Luke is thinking the exact same thing than Deck is currently thinking. And that he _knows_ that Deckard is thinking about it.

“Phone, watch, jewellery,” Luke commands. Next to them Justin whimpers in fright. So much for his earlier bravery. Deck on the other hand has to work suppressing a noise of another variety at that low, commanding tone of voice. And damn if Luke doesn’t just know that too.

He slips the jammer into the bag alongside his phone and watch. The others have already collected their target’s phone – which he couldn’t even attempt to wipe with the jammer working and Letty throwing herself onto him in fright, keeping him busy and focused on her.

One final, heat filled gaze – really, it’s miracle that no one close to them doesn’t feel how the air simmers between Deck and Luke – and then Luke returns to Toretto, who’s still standing in the middle of the room, making sure everything goes as smoothly as planned. Deck follows unashamedly that nicely shaped arse and broad back with his eyes. They have now both the phone and jammer, so Toretto gives a signal to Pierce and Little Nobody, who hurry to him as well.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your co-operation tonight,” Toretto says, gesturing the other three to move towards the doors. “You have been very helpful indeed, and this is almost over now. Next, we’ll walk away from here and you’ll all sit where you are, until the lights come back on. After that, you are free. Good night.”

They leave the room and the lights flicker on in about two minutes later. Deck gets up from the floor alongside the other guests and start to trickle towards the doors with them. It will be yet a long time until he can get away from the museum.

Nearly two hours later he’s still waiting to be questioned by the police. Tej informed him that the hit was a success, they got both their target’s phone with all the information still in it, and what information they needed from the museum. And judging by how Letty has been hanging pretty close to their smuggler these last few hours, they also managed to find a nice way into his house if they still need it tomorrow, after going through the information acquired tonight.

So, Deck can feel pretty good about a job well done. And of course the moment he thinks that, Killian Justin makes his way through the crowd towards Deckard.

“Declan!” Judging by that winning smile, the man has already forgotten his previous fright and is back to his too-sure-for-his-own-good self.

 _Lovely_. “Hello, Killian,” he doesn’t bother with a smile.

“I thought that I’d lost you in the crowd.”

_Well, I certainly hoped that you did…_

“Are you free to go yet?”

“No, still waiting to talk with someone,” Deck answers. They’re outside, and it’s starting to feel rather chilly, so actually he would be happy to go, but at this point anything that keeps him away from Killian Justin, even having to stay at the museum for a while longer, is welcomed. And then:

“Well, in that case, let me wait with you. And maybe after you are also free, we could go warm ourselves up in that heated pool I was telling you about.”

 _Are you being serious right now?_ He’s so close to getting away without no one being none the wiser about his real motive for attending this gala. He’s not going to attract attention to himself by finally giving into his desire to just-

“Sir?”

Deck turn to see a police officer by his side. “Ah, yes?”

“I would like to take your statement right now.”

 _Thank you!_ Deck has rarely been so glad to follow a police officer into questioning than he is now, as he takes the few steps after her to stand by a car, from where she pulls a clipboard and pen.

“Okay then sir. I only have a few questions for you… Starting with your name, please.”

“Declan Lucas.” Yeah, _he_ didn’t come up with _that_ last name.

The whole thing takes about ten minutes and then he’s free. Well, free apart from Killian beelining back to his side like a damn heat seeking missile. And being about as subtle as one. Deckard starts to purposefully walk towards the carpark a little farther from the museum, where his car is parked. Killian follows oblivious, chatting again.

Absentmindedly, Deck takes notice of how carefully Stane seems to be helping Letty get into a taxi, as he crosses the street. Nice job. And without any clinging on from anyone’s part. Looks like Letty’s evening is going better than his.

“You know, I’m sure you’ll love my car. It’s a real beauty,” Killian is saying. Apparently still under the impression that Deck is actually interested or about to follow him home. After the evening enduring the man, it will be a true pleasure to show him once and for all, exactly what Deck thinks of him. Now that they are further from the crowd, Deckard is free to tell Killian Justin exactly what’s on his mind, and he’s about to do so, when he sees a figure leaning against his car.

Oh, and what do you know. Maybe wishes _do_ come true after all, because didn’t he just wish to have Luke here, earlier, to chase Justin away. And now, there he is, leaning casually against the side of the midnight blue Camaro Deckard is driving tonight.

Deck doesn’t really _need_ for Luke to play the hero. He can take care of the problem himself, now that he doesn’t have to be careful of who might see. But partnership is more than just needing something. It’s also allowing the other to do things for you. Like how Luke – who is pretty decent cook himself – doesn’t argue about Deck having taken over their kitchen. He does the meal planning, cooking and usually the cleaning. Deck likes cooking and being able to provide for his small family like that, and Luke is happy to let him have that, offering profound compliments for the chef and at least help with clean up in return.

And just like with Deck’s cooking, there are things that Luke likes to do for Deck and Sam. Heavy lifting, getting things from up high, giving absolutely heavenly messages for Deck… Basically, he likes to provide for the two of them in ways that both Deck and Sam find hard to do themselves. Giving this one to Luke would be easy, Deck only needs to swallow his pride. Which won’t actually be that hard, because Deck is sure that the result will be _hilarious_. Also, it’s not like anyone apart from Killian will be here to witness this.

Decision made, Deck lets Killian be, taking the last steps to his car and to his partner. Luke stands up fully as they got closer and next to Deck, Killian falters a little, obliviously taking in the sheer size of Deck’s very own Twinkle-toes.

“Hey handsome,” Deckard gives a coy little smile at his partner. “Did you come all the way to here just to meet me?” he asks innocently, like he damn well wasn’t aware just where the man has spent all evening.

“Hey sweetheart,” Luke grins and steps up to Deck, catching up immediately. One hand slips around his waist, the palm settling to the small of his back. Deck tilts his head up, pushing onto his toes as Luke leans down to press a kiss to his lips. “Heard what was happening here.” A kiss “Had to come make sure you were okay.” A kiss. “I’m so sorry I got stuck at work and couldn’t come with you tonight.” A kiss, a kiss and one more.

When they finally separate, Luke keeps a tight hold of Deckard and gives a lazy glance at Killian, like he finds the man utterly uninteresting. “Who’s that?” He gestures with his head, eyes back at Deck’s face.

“Oh, this is Killian Justin. We med at the gala,” Deck answers, as the man himself seems to have finally grown tongue tied in the presence of Deckard’s partner. Again.

“Should I be jealous?” Luke teases, and drops another kiss to Deck’s brow.

Deck leans against the wide chest of his partner, and hums happily when Luke’s hands settle more firmly around him. He looks up to the Samoan with a soppy smile, as he answers. “Never, love. You’re the only man for me.”

“Good,” Luke says, sending a vicious glance at Killian. “Would hate to have to take care of any competition when you’re all dolled up and pretty in those nice clothes of yours. I know how you’re about getting any blood on them.”

Killian pales, looking suddenly rather alarmed and Deck has to hide his smirk against Luke’s leather jacket for a second.

“But you’d do that for me anyway, wouldn’t you, handsome?” he sighs adoringly, gaze turned up to Luke’s face again. “If anyone was trying anything?”

“’Course baby. Why, you say he tried something?”

Next to them Killian lets out a small, strangled sound and scrambles away, stammering. “Sorry, sorry. Man, I didn’t know- didn’t mean to- sorry. Please don’t kill me!” He yelps, before turning around and taking off like a bat out of hell, all nice expensive shoes and stupid white tuxedo jacket.

Deck starts to laugh as soon as the white back of his is swallowed by the darkness. Luke chuckles alongside him. When Deck finally gets himself under control, he tilts his head up to look at Luke’s grinning face.

“My hero.”

Luke winks and gives Deck another kiss. “At your service, Princess.”

“Mmmh, is that so?”

The arms around his body tighten suddenly, big hands settling to his hips, with the fingers gracing his arse. No more pretending. “Actually, I’m suddenly thinking that maybe it should be you at my service, instead. As a thank you…” Luke grumbles against his ear, causing pleasant shiver trace along Deck’s spine.

“Oh?”

“Mhh, yeah. You looked so good earlier. At your knees in front of me. Gave me a few ideas.” Luke squeezes Deck’s arse, urging him up to his toes again as he lowers his head to press a wet kiss just behind Deck’s ear, causing more shivers. “You’d like that, Princess, wouldn’t you? You on your knees for me. Mine to use as I please?”

“Oh lord,” Deck groans at the mental image, hands coming up to hold onto the Samoans biceps as he tries to ground himself.

“Yeah, thought so… So what you say Princess? Gonna thank me all nice for saving you from that sleazy?”

Deck has to shake his head a little to clear it. It’s dark but they are in open carpark for God’s sake! And if Luke keeps talking like that, they will never make it farther than this. And Deck is definitely not going to do it out here in the open. Or in the car for that matter, it’s a sports car, they’d never fit.

“Princess?”

“Take me home, Hercules,” he commands. Well, to a hotel actually, because they are in Boston. And Deck is actually the one with the keys to the car, and no intention to handle them over, but apart from those two technicalities, the sentiment remains. He wants to get somewhere private, and he wants to get there _now_.

Luke grins. And isn’t it a good thing that they all agreed to do the debriefing in the morning, instead of tonight? Deck fishes the keys from his pocket and presses the button to unlock the doors. He slips behind the wheel, Luke folding his body to the seat next to him. It took half an hour to get from the hotel to the museum earlier, Deckard wonders how long it will take them to get back. A lot less, he’s willing to bet.

Perfectly in sync with him, Luke looks at Deck and lifts an eyebrow, smiling in challenging manner. “How fast are you, Princess?”

Deck grins and starts the car.


	6. My Prince(ss) in a shining armour(ed car)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter! Can't believe I did 25,000+ words story. I really didn't plan for this to be so long. But still, I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. My next few project would better be those essays I haven't even started to plan, let alone write, because I have been busy with this. But writing Hero has given me a few ideas for Shobbs fics so we'll see what future holds. Other than history essays, that's it...

“Hey babe, just called to let you know I’m heading out now.”

Deck pushes the speaker phone symbol and sets his mobile down on the counter, so he can continue slicing the carrots while he speaks.

“Are you in the car already or still in the office?”

There’s a shuffling sound, faint voices and Luke’s half muffled ‘Yeah, you too!’ wishing, before his voice comes through clear again. “Just stepping out the front doors, actually. So about forty minutes and I’ll be home.”

“Good. Dinner will be ready in about an hour so that gives you the perfect time to stop to pick up some milk on your way.” There’s a faint groan, and Deck lifts an eyebrow, the fact that Luke can’t see it, doesn’t mean he won’t know it’s raised when Deck continues. “Sorry, dear, didn’t quite catch that but I’m sure you were saying something about the lines of ‘glad to do so’, as I know that you wouldn’t want for Sam and I be left without milk in the morning.”

There’s a brief silence at the other end, Luke probably things of previous morning that has happened. There’s a possibility he could talk Sam into having porridge rather than cereal, but she will most probably be grumpy, and Deck will be double that if he can’t have his morning cuppa the way he likes it.

“Of course not, your highness. We can’t have that. Did you need anything else while I stop at the store?”

“No, just that milk. I’ll go shopping tomorrow and had actually planned that the milk would last but Sam requested mashed potatoes for today so now we need more.”

“Okay, well I guess I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

“Don’t be late.”

“When you’re cooking? Never.”

Deck laughs softly and lets Luke hang up so he can finish with the carrots.

An hour and ten minutes later, the mashed potatoes are keeping warm under the lit and both the honey covered roasted carrots and salmon en croute are ready to come out of the oven. And Luke is _late_. Deck is pissed, because he hates to wait with a dinner that’s wasn’t specially planned to be something that can wait.

He turned the oven off ten minutes ago, but left the dishes in to keep warm, they can’t however stay in that much longer and Deckard decides that unless Luke gets home in the next ten minutes, he and Sam will eat, and Mr. Always-on-time will have to settle with what’s left. Deck also tells himself that he is simply miffed about the wait because logically there’s no reason the be worried when someone is only about fifteen minutes late.

Fifteen minutes later the dinner is still waiting, untouched, when Deck reaches for his phone for tenth time to check if there’s apologetic message from Luke who’s stuck in traffic. There’s none. It’s fine. Luke is only about half an hour late, that’s not a big deal. It’s really not. _Luke also knows that you’ll worry because you’re expecting him home and would let you know if something happened_ , a small voice whispers in his head.

Deckard presses the green phone symbol, lets his finger hover over the first name a bit and then presses down. It rings for a while, but no-one answers. _You’re being paranoid_ , he tells himself, but all the same, he pulls up the app that lets him check where, exactly, Luke’s phone is. It pings to near the corner shop Deck expected Luke to stop by to get the milk. There shop is about fifteen minutes from their house, Luke should have been in and out of there about an hour ago. Frowning, Deck goes to put the green salad into a fridge to keep cool and pulls the dishes from oven, better let them cool down than dry up. Then he calls Sam.

“Is dinner ready yet?” she asks, skipping into the room, only to freeze when she gets a look at Deckard. Her smile gets replaced with a worried frown and Deck hates himself for making her worry, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. “What’s wrong?” Sam asks, as echoing Deck’s inner thoughts.

“Possibly nothing,” Deck reassures her, pulling her into his arms when she is near enough and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Your father’s just being late, is all.”

“Daddy’s never late, not without telling as about it,” Sam – sweet, observant Sam who has the makings of a great detective – points out, looking concerned.

“I know, love. Which is why I’m a little worried. His phone is near the shop where he should have stopped to pick up some milk, so it’s a possibility that he – in his amazing luck – just walked into an attempted robbery or something,” Deck tries to joke and feels a spark of happiness as he manages to make Sam giggle.

“Daddy would kick their ass!”

“Language. And yes, he would,” Deck agrees readily. And doesn’t he just hope that that’s the case. That Luke is simply late because he stopped to play the hero and lost tract of time. “So, there’s really no reason to worry.”

“But you want to go make sure?” Sam says, her gaze steady as she stares up at him but her face pleading. Great, he made her worried too. Deck hugs her just a bit tighter, wanting to protect her from the world but also feeling like he _has to make sure_ Luke is both safe and unharmed. He nods, pressing another kiss to her head. It’s Luke whom Deck has learned the habit of hugs and kisses like these, his own family hasn’t ever that big on physical gestures of affection, but Luke is always touching and kissing both Deck and Sam and Deck likes it. And he likes how Sam acts always so sure of the fact that she’s loved, because she has daily reminders of that love.

“I’ll get my shoes and coat!” she says, wriggling free of his hold and running towards the door. Deck is in half a mind to remind her not to run indoors but holds it in and just follows after her.

“So much like her father,” he contemplates quietly to himself. “Ready to rush in headlong.” But worry gnaws his insides and so Deck follows quickly pulling his own shoes on and grabbing his coat. He grimaces as they step outside. The beginning of December is a lot warmer in Los Angeles than it would be in London, but still it’s getting dark and the wind feels cool, bordering cold. He turns to make sure that Sam is all zipped up in her coat, even when she can tolerate the cold so much better than he does, and hurries to his car.

Deckard is a bit of racer himself, he enjoys the speed, but with Sam in the car he never pushes the car over speed limit, and patiently waits until she’s buckled up, before carefully backing out of the driveway and starting to make his way towards the corner shop and hopefully their favourite Ogre.

Flashing blue lights greet them when Deck turns the last corner. Three separate police cars are parked on both sides of the street. Unmarked black sedan is by the shop’s doors, two patrol cars on the opposite side of the road, flanking massive SUV that dwarfs them both. Luke’s SUV. _Oh, please Lord, let it be a robbery and let Luke be all right and busy ordering those poor bastards around._

“Wait here while I go check this out,” Deck instructs Sam as he parks. He exits the car, locks the doors and takes one last look of her through the window, making sure that she is okay. She waves at him impatiently, a clear sign that he should go already to find out what’s going on. He salutes her and starts to make his way towards the SUV and the patrol cars.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you can’t come in here,” one of the officers on the scene says when he spots him. Young, and not nearly as sure of his own authority than he tries to appear. Somehow, he reminds Deck of Little Nobody in his sharply ironed uniform. Deckard ignores him, seeking around the other three police officers who are out on the street with him, until his eyes meet a man’s who’s at least twice the boy’s age and clearly more in charge here. He is behind the SUV, bend to examine the driver’s side – which makes a knot of uneasiness curl in tighter in Deck’s stomach – but straightens up when he sees Deckard.

“Can I help you?” the older officer asks, making his way closer. “Jimmy, go check if Wilson and Hill need any help inside.” The last sentence is directed to the young officer.

“Yeah, sarge.” The boy nods and leaves them, looking little reluctant as he does so, probably sensing that whatever information Deck has, will be much more interesting than what he just got assigned with.

Deck doesn’t wait for the boy to be gone before he’s addressing the older man – sergeant H. Woo, according to the nametag on his dark blue uniform shirt. “I need to know what’s going on here.”

The man lifts an eyebrow, possibly because of the commanding way the words are delivered, possibly because the accent they are delivered with. Probably thinking he’s some obnoxious tourist, Deck realises, poking his nose into their – he’s not going to think it as a crime scene, Deck decides, because that’s just too- well. It’s not something he wants to think about.

“Look, that’s my partner’s car,” Deckard starts explaining, gesturing towards the SUV. “He was supposed to come home nearly an hour ago, but he never did. And he’s not answering his phone, so we were worried – and judging be the scene here, rightly so – and came looking for him.”

“’We’?” the sergeant asks.

“Me and his kid,” Deck nods towards his own car, where they both can see Sam staring at them.

“You brought a kid with you?”

“She’s ten, I couldn’t just leave her alone at home. And she’s currently waiting safely in the car.” And really, his newest baby is a silver Aston Martin DB11, that’s fully armoured with bullet proof windows. Sam is as safe as safe can be in that car.

“Right. And your partner? How did you know to come here? And why? Most folks would have waited longer than an hour to get worried enough to come looking for someone who’s a bit late getting home, let alone with a kid in tow. He could have been late in the office, or stuck in traffic, this is L.A.”

 _I know, just because you can hear I’m not from around here, doesn’t mean I don’t live in here._ There catching words are at the tip of his tongue but with some struggle, Deck swallows his growing irritation at man and how _not concerned_ he acts. For now. It won’t do any good to lose his temper with the sergeant if he wants to find out what’s really going on here.

“Luke always lets me know if he’s going to be late,” Deck says, bit clipped. “And he called me when he left work, I asked him pick some milk, and I also pinged his phone which is why I knew to come here.”

“Pinged his phone?” the man asks, surprised.

“Yes,” Deck bites out. If sergeant Woo plans to make question out of everything Deckard tells him, they’ll never get anywhere.

“Wow, usually people keep tab on their kids like that, not their partners.”

“We have a job that makes it best to be able to track the other’s location, if needed. That’s also why I got worried when he didn’t come home. There’re enough people out the who wouldn’t mind going after Luke. Or me, through him. Same goes to most of our associates, actually.” It’s well known fact that Toretto is ready to do anything for those he considers family and with how close they have all grown lately, someone could try to use Luke get to Dominic as well. If you ignore the fact that there are a lot easier options for that than she-Hulk, if you try to get to Toretto.

The sergeant’s brows rise up questioningly. “And what exactly is that you _do_ then. If that a possibility.”

Deck feels like scoffing. Not only are they not getting anywhere, but haven’t the cops even run the license plates to find out who the car belongs to? Not to mention that Luke’s ID pass to the front gate at the DSS should be in the glovebox. “Bit of freelances nowadays” – he can’t exactly tell this copper that they work for a man called Mr. Nobody, doing things that half of the time are strictly need to know – “but Luke, agent Hobbs that is, works in his old office at DSS when we’re between jobs.”

“He’s a leo?” Now the man looks much more interested in and then actually start to give some information out too. “We were called in to a scene of possible kidnapping. Someone saw a bunch of men grab another here and when we came in, we found the car unlocked, with a gun on the floor on the driver’s side.”

Kidnapping? Someone must be truly desperate to try and kidnap Luke. So, whoever is behind this, is probably someone Captain America himself, personally pissed off.

“A custom Smith & Wesson 629?” Deck asks on a hunch, that is the one Luke has been using as his sidearm lately. Woo nods. “Yeah, that’s his.”

“Any idea of who could be behind this?”

“Like I said, he has enemies.” Deck pauses for a bit, before adding. “Someone who was prepared, since they managed to jump him.”

“The person calling this in said there where half a dozen people.”

“He could have taken a dozen.” Woo looks sceptical so Deck shrugs. “He’s trained for that. And not a small guy by any means.”

Deckard’s phone starts to ring before he can elaborate on that and when he pulls it from his pocked, Luke’s name is flashing on the screen. Intrigued, he looks around, sees one of the two other officers standing next to the car holding a phone. He waves his own phone in the air, catching her attention, before making a show of answering the call. The surprise on her and her partner’s face is clear.

Little too late Deck realizes that in order to be calling him from Luke’s phone, they have to have called the person who called Luke last. Which means that they called the number labelled as _Princess_ on the phone. Right. They probably didn’t expect someone like himself being on the other end of the phone. Briefly he contemplates whether he should just tell them that the phone they just called actually belongs to Sam rather than Deck himself. They’d probably believe it too.

“Did I just ring you?” the officer asks, rounding the bonnet in order to get closer to them.

Deck nods.

“He’s the victim’s partner,” the older sergeant explains. Deck doesn’t flinch, he’s too much of a professional to show outwardly his reaction, but to hear that word addressed to his partner. Luke’s no-one’s _victim_. Woo turns back to Deckard, looking like he just realized something. “I don’t thing we introduced ourselves. I’m sergeant Woo.”

For a brief moment – old habits die hard, after all – Deck hesitates, unsure if he should give his real identity, but then he realizes that this is probably not the right moment for paranoia. “Deckard Shaw,” he says, shaking sergeant Woo’s outreached hand. “Former MI6,” Deck adds as an afterthought, remembering how the man reacted to finding out that Luke works for the government.

“MI6 you say? Well, that explains that partner thing.”

Behind his back the younger officer raises one blond eyebrow, probably having come to the right conclusion of what kind of partners Deck was actually referring to. Well, not many men call others by the name Princess. Then again, that one started long before they where anything more than very reluctant co-workers. 

“You called this phone earlier?” she verifies, apparently deciding not to correct Woo.

“Yeah, when Luke didn’t show up at home the time he was supposed to.”

“I think we’d better take a statement from you. Might help us determine where to go from here so we can find agent- Hobbs was it?” Woo verifies, just as three people step out of the shop. The two at the front are in suits instead of uniforms. Detectives probably. Though they look more like character from telly than real life police, both tall and beautiful. Her dark curls look that kind of effortlessly natural that takes an hour to get ready every morning and caramel skin glowing even under the streetlamps. The man is golden blond and looks like he might live in a gym. Deck kind of wants to ask for their badges to make sure they are real.

Officer Jimmy follows at the pair’s heels like an eager puppy.

“Ah, good timing. Wilson, Hill! Come here!” Woo calls.

“Woo?” the woman asks, sharp eyes taking in Deck. Okay, maybe she is a real cop, but Deckard don’t need police involved in finding his partner. They have all those pesky rules to follow, and he isn’t feeling particularly inclined to follow them right now.

“Looks like the information we got was true after all. This is Deckard Shaw, former MI6 agent and the SUV belongs to his partner, agent Hobbs who’s with DSS.”

The two Detectives look suddenly rather interested as they turn towards Deck. “Really? I’m detective Angela Hill, this is my partner Anthony Wilson. Could you tell us a bit more?”

Deck doesn’t really feel the need for that, he just needs the information that the police has so that _he_ can go and find Luke. He doesn’t have much faith in LAPD to be able to do so in any timely manner. Even so, he doesn’t think that he will get what he wants until he cooperates with them in return.

“Sure.”

“What did you find out?” Sam demands to know the minute Deck finally makes it back to the car.

“The police think that someone grabbed your Dad,” Deck says, not really seeing a reason to sugar-coat it. Luke is always adamant to tell Sam the truth, even when it might hurt, rather than lie to her. If he doesn’t want to tell her something, he changes the subject or stays quiet about it, but he never lies about it either. Deck, who grew up in a house where lying was skill to be honed every way possible, finds it refreshing. That’s why he’s been following Luke’s lead, always aiming to tell Sam the truth. Deck just chooses to omit the details he doesn’t deem necessary for her to know. So, there’s no reason not to tell her what happened to her father, but also no reason to tell her that he was taken by a half a dozen men who were skilled enough that Luke never even had the chance to fire his gun.

“You gonna go save Daddy?” She looks at him in the eyes. He just told her that her father has been kidnapped, but she doesn’t look scared, only unwaveringly confident that Deck can and will make the situation right for her again.

“I am.”

“Okay. Give the people who took him hell.”

“Oi, watch your language young lady,” Deck reprimands her, but can’t help but grin. Sam grins back at him. “Come on, I need to make a few phone calls and find you a place to wait while I go find your Dad. Can’t very well take you with me, poppet.”

Sam crunches her nose, but she’s smart enough to know he’s right about that one and so doesn’t complain when Deck turns the car around, already dialling the first person he needs to call. “Hey Lisa, I need a favour…”

Lisa is of course worried when Deckard tells her what is going on, but ten minutes later, when he pulls to her house – she lives close by to them, it’s easier with Sam’s school as she regularly spends time with her aunt – Lisa is waiting by the door, looking calm. That calm is probably a front, one she pulls up for Sam, but Deck doesn’t comment on it as he walks Sam to the door, greeting Lisa.

“Hey, thanks for being able to take her on such a short notice.”

“Of course,” Lisa says, looking worried. “Just promise to bring my brother home safe.”

“No other option,” Deck reassures her, before turning towards Sam. “Okay poppet, I’m going to go now. Shouldn’t be too long, but I’ll let you know anyway when we’re on our way back.”

“Okay,” Sam nods and hugs him. “Be careful. I love you, Deck.”

The words hit him hard, still, and like always he’s once again awed of how much he can love someone. Deckard has never felt the same kind of pure love – of course he loves Luke, but it’s different, a mixture of lust and love and companionship – towards anyone else, apart from Hattie and Owen. But with Sam it’s different, this love isn’t born out of duty of being told that he’s a big brother, with a job to protect his younger siblings. Deck has a funny feeling this is what parents feel towards their kids. Sheer love and consuming need to protect this beautiful little girl who has captured his heart.

“I’ll be,” he promises, voice a bit rough. “I love you, too, angel.”

“Sam,” Lisa calls, and Sam lets go, falling into the hug Lisa offers. She a smart girl, their Samantha, probably picking on how much Lisa is in a need of a hug herself, even when she is making it look like she’s offering one for Sam’s own benefit.

Deck waits until they are both safely inside, before he turns and walks back to his car. He has a partner to rescue.

Deck calls Mr. Nobody once he’s in the car and five minutes later – and after assuring him that he doesn’t need the rest of their team who resident in LA being called, just a location, he can handle this – he’s already on his way to where the God’s Eye showed Luke having been taken to.

The address leads him to a warehouse at waterfront. Deck parks a bit further away, deciding to take a closer look at first, before he chooses the best way to handle the situation.

He takes his handgun and the backup piece and bulletproof west from the hidden compartment in the booth, cursing the fact that he doesn’t have bigger arsenal in the car. He doesn’t even have any hand grenades in here because he has Sam regularly in the car and Deckard doesn’t feel comfortable with having explosives so close to her. So, this is what he will have to do with. Well, he has gotten by with less.

Deck keeps in the shadows as he nears the warehouse, but there seems to be neither any lookout here nor security cameras for that matter. Whoever kidnapped Luke – okay, according to the God’s Eye the idiot gang of a drug baron Luke caught three years ago as a DSS agent – probably aren’t expecting to be found this quickly. Which just shows that they didn’t do their homework beyond the superficial information. They knew who they were against and what they have to do to subdue Luke, but they didn’t count on the fact of Luke having not just a partner, but a full team of people who would come to his aid and also like to use unconventional methods to do so. And have access to a program that can find anyone, anywhere. Especially people whose idea of a disguise is an honest to god clown mask. Which they removed as soon as they were back in their van.

The warehouse itself is a typical concrete building, run down with graffitied shutter metal door, wide enough for two cars to fit in side by side. The door is also locket and Deck doesn’t dare to try to pick his way in, not liking the idea of going in blind. So, he starts to make his way around the building, hoping to find either another entrance or a window or something to take a peek inside.

On the side of the building there’s a row of windows, so grimy it will be a miracle if he sees anything through them. They are also annoyingly high, and there’s nothing to use to stand on, which means that he has to circle to the other side of the building. Luckily there are windows as well – unfortunately they are just as dirty as the ones on the opposite side – and also some wooden pallets he can climb onto. The pallets have been left lying against the wall of the warehouse, so thankfully he doesn’t have to try and move any of them. _Just have to hope they don’t go falling like dominoes… Or are rotten enough that they won’t hold my weight_.

They creak a little but hold his weight as Deck carefully climbs onto them, trying to be as quiet as possible. Close by, the windows are even more grimy, nearly brown and smudged and he has to press as close as possible to make out anything.

Inside the warehouse seems to be mostly empty space. Deck can make out a somewhat blurry figure tied to chair, the wide shoulders pointing towards it being Luke. In addition to him, Deckard counts a dozen other people, many of them carrying probably either automatic rifles or shotguns. The window is so grimy it’s impossible to make out more than the general shape of a long-barrelled guns.

Cursing softly to himself, Deck starts to make up a plan. While taking care of a dozen armed men isn’t necessarily something he can’t do, it’s also not something Deck prefers to do when armed by nothing more than two guns, in open space where they’re all free to shoot him and where there’s a hostage in the middle of things. So, what then? He can’t even try to sneak in and take them few at the time, because there’s nothing to sneak around at, just big, empty space and all of them milling in the middle of the warehouse. Storming in is probably the smartest line of action, but he won’t still be able to take down more than three or four before the rest of them can react. Unless…

It’s more of Hulk’s or Toretto’s alley, but it’s actually the best he can come up with, because Deck has no desire to leave this to either anyone else or to wait around for back up. Grinning, he jumps down from the pallets. The gang won’t know what hit them when he’s done.

Deckard presses hard on the gas and lets his Aston Martin fly. The metal door gives way with ear splitting screech, and he spins the car so that it slides sideways towards the shocked, panicking people. Deck starts shooting from open window before the car even comes to a stop. He hit two of them with the car when he drove in, three more go down before they even manage to get over the sheer absurdity that someone just _drove in straight through their locked front door_ and two more drop down before any of them manage to open fire.

Deck grabs the other gun from passenger seat and steps out firing with a gun in both hands. The remaining five men don’t stand a chance, not after Deck gets his first good look at his partner and sees the blood on his face. They hurt his Twinkle-toe and they will pay for it.

Quicker than one would expect, all of the dozen lowlifes who thought it a good idea to kidnap his partner are dead. Deckard surveys the carnage around him in grim satisfaction, before stepping over the bodies to where Luke sits, tied from shoulders to knees to a chair with thick metal chains. Apparently the kidnappers didn’t want to take any chances of his escaping.

“You crazy Brit!” Luke is watching him with wide eyes. “Princess, that was fucking insane!”

“Says the man who regularly likes to go through things rather than round them,” Deck point out.

“Well I didn’t say it was bad thing. Mostly just helluva _hot_.”

Deck smirks, bending down to examine the chains.

“The one you run over first has the keys,” Luke supplies as Deck picks up heavy-duty padlock and gives it experimental tug.

“Hmm, oh him?” The man in question is half squashed under the front tires of the car. Deck makes a face at him. “Probably easier to just either pick or break this…”

Since Deckard doesn’t actually want to shoot the lock so close to Luke, he ends up picking it and then helps pull the chains off the bigger man. Luke makes a move to get up, but Deck takes his face in his hands, causing the Samoan to stay down.

“They hurt you,” Deck frowns, ghosting his fingers gently over Luke’s injuries. There’s a gash over his right eyebrow and the eye underneath seems to be developing a nasty shiner. His lower lip is split, and his nose is bloody but thankfully doesn’t seem broken. And there are probably more bruises under his clothes.

“I’m fine,” steady hands take a hold of Deck’s hips and Luke tugs gently, until Deck is standing between his spread legs and Luke can wrap his arms around his waist, hugging him. “I promise. They only got to rough me up a bit before you came.”

“Enough to bruise that pretty face.”

“Aww, baby, did you just call me handsome?”

“Pretty, actually. And I was mostly referring to the fact that since you don’t have that many redeeming features I’d hate to see the one thing that you got going for you damaged, because you won’t exactly have brains to fall back if your looks get taken out of the picture…”

“Funny,” Luke deadpans. “And you’re the one who’s pretty, Princess. I’m the handsome hero.”

“And I’m the one doing the rescuing,” Deck smirk.

“For today. Have to give you a chance to rescue me sometimes, so you don’t feel too left out.”

“Because I don’t rescue you often enough as it is,” Deck rolls his eyes.

“You do,” Luke admits, and then he pushes up in one fluid move and suddenly Deck is the one looking up, pressed against that wide chest. He tugs free from the arms around him, stepping back so he doesn’t have to crane his neck in such an awkward angle in order to see his partners face. Stupid giraffe.

“And don’t you forget it,” Deck says.

“How could I? You make a point of telling me often enough from who, where, when and how often you ‘have saved my arse’,” the fake accents that is obliviously meant to represent his, makes Deck scowl.

“Never try that again. And it’s not like you don’t do that too – even more often than I do.” Which is half the reason Deck usually starts to list the times he has rescued Luke in return.

Luke laugh and winks at him. “So you don’t forget who’s the hero.”

Deck rolls his eyes again, choosing not to comment that one.

They step their way over and around bodies to the car, and Deck nudges the body underneath it with his shoe. Couldn’t he have flied to side like the other body did? Did he really have to fall underneath the car, because no he’s wedged between the tires and Deck will have to either reverse or drive over him to get free of him. Stupid gangster.

His car at least looks quite okay, there’s only a few scratches on the paint job from the door and some blood spatter. Both will be easy enough to fix.

“Hey Princess.” There’s a tug at his arm and when Deck turns around, he finds himself pressed against the side of the Aston Martin. “Thank you, for being my hero princess in shining car today,” the big man mutters, leaning down for a kiss. Usually it’s Deck giving delivering these thank you kisses, but he finds himself enjoying this reverse role a lot as well. Winding his arms over Luke’s shoulders, he tugs his partner even closer.

“Always.”

“Yeah?” Luke leans in for another kiss. “And same for me, you know,” he says, when they finally separate.

“Yeah.” They smile at each other, still pressed together in the middle of the carnage in the warehouse. Okay, probably time to go. “I should call Sam. She’s with Lisa and they’ll want to know you have been successfully rescued. And Mr. Nobody for clean up here. And probably should let those polices investigating your kidnapping know that all’s taken care of already.”

“You got police to investigate my kidnapping?” Luke asks, incensed.

“Not me. They were there already.” Luke lifts a questioning brow at him. “Hey, you’re the one who got _kidnapped_ from a _street,_ someone called it in.”

“Oh, by the way, did you buy that milk?” Deck asks as they’re heated towards Lisa’s to pick up Sam.

Luke turns to stare at him. “The milk?”

“Yes, the milk I asked you to pick up on your way to home.”

“I just got jumped on my way home!”

“Yes, but did you get the milk before?”

“No,” Luke sighs, “No I didn’t. I’m sorry Princess. Can’t I just make that up to you when we get home?”

“I cook for you and rescue you from kidnappers and you can’t even get the milk I asked for? And how’s making it up to me going to help my morning tea tomorrow?”

Luke groans, but is saved from answering when Deck pulls to a stop and Sam comes barrelling towards the car. The agent is quick to get out and catch her into a hug.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie.”

“You’re okay!” Sam yells, grinning, before she wiggles free of her father’s arms, only to jump to hug Deckard in turn. “You found him!”

“Said I would, didn’t I?” he answers, meeting Luke’s eyes over Sam’s head. Luke smiles, wide and happy despite the bruising on his face – he cleaned up a bit before they came to collect Sam – and then he steps closer, and Deck finds both himself and Sam surrounded by Luke’s arms.

“Sorry I worried you two,” Luke says, squeezing them both bit tighter.

“We’ll forgive you Daddy,” Sam promises for the both of them. Then she smiles up at him looking all sweet and innocent. “But you made us wait for dinner so long and I’m so hungry now that in apology I think that you should let us have ice-cream afterwards!”

“And milk,” Deck is quick to add, since they don’t have ice-cream at the house any more than they have milk at the moment. Luke just lifts a one exaggerated eyebrow at them, but then he shakes his head, laughing and Deck knows that they will have all the ice-cream they could ever wish for, for a pudding and milk for tomorrow as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the way Deck played the hero in this. I know this escaped me a bit around the time he went to the shop, that long conversation with the police wasn't actually planned, but yet again, it just happened... Still, hero - or Princess - in shining car got the rescue Luke for once, and be rather effective about it, too :)


End file.
